Andy Kissane

Andy Kissane lives in Sydney and writes fiction and poetry. He has published a novel, a book of short stories, The Swarm, and five books of poetry. Radiance (Puncher & Wattmann, 2014) was shortlisted for the Victorian and Western Australian Premier’s Prizes and the Adelaide Festival Awards. He was the joint winner of the 2019 Peter Porter Poetry Prize. His latest collection, The Tomb of the Unknown Artist is available from Puncher & Wattmann.

First Reading

We begin rehearsals in a freezing warehouse that was once a factory reverberating with the hum and clanking of shuttle looms and the numbing routine of days that chilled down into the soul, that accumulated a tally of impoverished hours …

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Kent State University—the Photograph

I am still half asleep when I stumble towards the fridge, take two oranges out of the crisper and find the sharp knife. I slice them in half, then press the skin down on the green glass dome, watching the …

Posted in 93: PEACH | Tagged

Hoop Girl

As the trishaw rolls to a stop, I spy a girl standing on the footpath in Rue Catinat, near the Continental, twirling a hoop around her midriff, spinning it with enough torque to hold it up— the supple undulations of …

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Johnno and the Seagulls

is not the name of a boy band, though it could be, I think, and then how it’s so easy to lay the blame at the feet of others. But if you hold the brush, then you’re responsible for how …

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The Book of Screams

Each day in hospital I wake to a reading from The Book of Screams. It comes, apparently, from the bathroom situated two-thirds of the way along the hall. No one talks while the screams linger. I pass the time by …

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Riding the Rotor with No End in Sight

You can’t even make time to kick a football with your own son, my wife says one night, when my boy is already asleep. I drop him at Before School Care each morning & tell him to have a good …

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Kuburan Suamiku | My Husband’s Grave

Kuburan Suamiku Aku merobek widuri kapas dari rumput di samping kuburanmu. mungkin kau injak hamparan rumput itu menjelang kepergianmu yang terakhir, menarik duri dari celanamu, mengagumi bunga ungu menawan. Alangkah jauh kau berjalan, lewat tumpukan jerami terbakar dan rumah-rumah kosong, …

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On the Highway

after Dorothea Lange The road takes your eye. Dave stands in front of me on the loose gravel, his gaze locked on the bitumen, following the curve past the last tree to the haze of hills in the distance. His …

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