Poems
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Echinopsis spachiana (Torch Cactus)
By Maria TakolanderA forest, they rise
to the god of night and, awed,
ignite in blossom.
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Botanic / "Beginning with four words from a poem by Joseph Massey"
By Cameron LoweThere’s little
to say. The fig—
giant—leans
across the -
Enter the Yellow Tower
By Elena Gomezwe grew a little slower sometimes
we needed to protect ourselves
we self-seeded on the cliff face
we splashed out real nice -
Agave franzosini (Grey Ghost)
By Maria TakolanderWhat a soul baring:
all this barbed glory laid out
for the noonday sun.
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Speaking Camellia
By Autumn RoyalI recognise her floating face-up with irregular
streaks of shell pink. Wavy petals—
Inside the throngs of knowing I took
her semi-formal blush for granted. She spoke -
Euphorbia caput-medusae (Medusa’s Head)
By Maria TakolanderIts skyward forays
thwarted, it lays low, seething—
fires with its own stars
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CBD Flower-Seller / Self-portrait
By Autumn RoyalThe flower-seller pulls a wagon into her failed
self-possession, a timeless testimony
for the story-teller. She will not sit restfully
with her hands in her lap, they are tied -
Kuller Kullup
By Bruce PascoeKuller Kullup walked
from the stoney shoulder of Targangil
to this bend of Birrarung
spoke to all the people gathered there, -
At the Tandicals
By Chris Wallace-Crabbe“It is good to know the truth, but better to speak of palm trees.”
(Peter Steele, after the Arabic)
From the high lawns -
Crushed Stone for Silver Waves
By Elena GomezI’m all chapped what are your lips doing at that entrance here is the softest flesh to test
against me my monsters are tougher they could have survived
real ancient purges don’t you know my species is no longer legitimate are you
my…are you floppy enough to last are your tendrils going the way for a new te… -
Botanic / “One-way conversation with Agapanthus”
By Cameron LoweTrouble is
the reflective lyric pose
won’t hold, when every time I greet you
vision splits (courtesy -
Golden Bogey
By Duncan HoseI am insuperably lazy and this makes me proud.
Midnight in Derby
a new suburb of Melbourne
Where Fitzleroy used to be -
Arms of a friend
By Carissa Lee GodwinFor Monterey Cypress
Origin: Mexico, South America
How many hearts have broken beneath your arms -
Floral Axis
By Autumn RoyalThis is not a concentration of dramatic method.
There appears to be a growing expectation
language can be trusted for clarity, a petal,
yet these segments are modified & leave a waxy -
Remnant
By Ryan Prehnremnant /ˈrɛmnənt/ noun
1. a part or quantity that is left after the greater part has been used, removed, or destroyed.
i. a piece of cloth left when the greater part has been used or sold.
ii. a surviving trace. -
Botanic / “Commission”
By Cameron Lowe—for Tamryn Bennett
Tired my eyes
having done nothing but speak
turtle talk to tortoise -
Echinocactus grusonii (Golden Barrel Cactus)
By Maria TakolanderBurrs of spiked lemon
spill themselves—what a fuss on
the volcanic rock
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Botanic / "Hermeneutics"
By Cameron Lowe“The land escapes because it refuses”
—Tony Baker
Turned the sun over -
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The bean seller's tale
By Maria TakolanderOnce upon a time,
we were cast as
hoodwinkers, thaieves,
old-timers of the deranged forests
