Poems
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Vixen
By Lainie Cameronpop open the cork
hear it swoon
and whistle
until it hits its head -
Couch
By Juliana DoupeJust brought
a 3 seater couch circa
1976, from the Don's Party school of interior deco,
upholstered in virulent orange and -
Mothers
By Juliana Doupedo to fill in the quiet,
where do I come from?
Mothers, like me,
in gestures and heart shaped faces and thinking -
These were the Westerns I wish I had wrote
By Ben DoranDear Diarist,
too soon full moon..not
tonight.
I am writing to you in secret, under the threat of death, in absentia, corpus delirium, help me cherubim stop dash seraphim, things with fins and cartoon-ish lords of sin (breathe) lance me for I am struggling to breathe and aching to cleave skin from bone. Tonight I feel alone. And so, to dialogue, let… -
The Night of the Bottle-tops
By Clint GreaganShe was sitting
there,
a little after midnight,
testing me -
Half
By Clint GreaganIt's not enough to wash once after
a night of tedium, the good time
to make a break is gone, the chilled -
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The Poets Of The 18th Century
By Brian HawkinsI had nothing to do so I went down
and asked the cows if they knew
of any cows who could talk, and they said
there was this cow near Gulargambone -
Mantle
By Bradley JelfsRemember when the two
white candles burnt out
and the red candle on
the right frames our bodies -
Bottle o' Beer
By Bradley JelfsA work toughened hand
just grasped
another metallic crowned
twist top -
The Me War
By Emilia JohanssonI want to be a soldier in my own struggling war
I wish to defeat the strong navy which is stationed in my heart
Every heartbeat sends out an army
Army "I don't know" and Army "fear and sorrow" -
En Saga För örat
By Emilia JohanssonJag ligger och lyssnar på ett regn som inte slutar
Vad gråter himlen för idag?
Det domnar i mina öron
Det är inga droppar, allt blir bara en massa -
Snow
By Emilia JohanssonIt is painting the landscape white
and you are painting me in bright
snow, just fallen, is perfect like cream on a cake
your colours are bright, shining all in blue like a clear lake -
Fishing for Sleep
By Juliet A. PaineSleep eddies in this weather,
a difficult fish to catch.
A shoal of silver dreams swim past
but don't catch on anxious hooks. -
I remember us
By Juliet A. PaineThis afternoon
the sunlight is hard and coarse
the clouds try desperately
to blot it out. -
Journal Poem (Sad)
By Juliet A. PaineI drive to the sea.
Thinking of John Berryman,
Jeff Buckley, Virginia Woolf.
What is it about water? -
Let us fly
By Tom KeilyLet us fly then you and I
Let us fly then you and I
Let us fly you and I across the distance of an old sky
across the cradle of a cold sky -
Schizophrenic dreaming
By Kate LockeShe sweeps through
the darkness, gliding like a black ghost, emerging here and there, only as
a shadow. Delicate hands, tiny waist. She is miniature, though tall and slender.
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Curvature
By Kate LockeNormal.
Nothing happening.
No curvature of sorts.
No curl of the lip or tongue.
