CONTRIBUTORS

Miro Bilbrough

Miro Bilbrough is a filmmaker and poet. Her poetry has been published in Contemporary feminist Australian Poetry (2016), The Disappearing 2.0, Cordite, Otoliths, Landfall, Sport, Pasture, Starch, Best New Zealand Poems 2010, and in her debut Small-Time Spectre (Kilmog Press, Dunedin 2010). As a writer-director, her feature film credits are Being Venice (2012) and the critically acclaimed Floodhouse (2004). She recently completed a creative doctorate of arts at Western Sydney University.

‘To encounter the unexpected’: Kate Fagan in Conversation with Miro Bilbrough

Posted on February 15, 2023 by Miro Bilbrough

On 26 March 2021, in a window between lockdowns, author and filmmaker Miro Bilbrough and I met to discuss her free-wheeling memoir, In the Time of the Manaroans (Ultimo Press, 2021).

Posted in INTERVIEWS | Tagged ,

Excerpt from In the Time of the Manaroans

Posted on October 1, 2020 by Miro Bilbrough

Miro Bilbrough’s memoir, In the time of the Manaroans, is set in a remote countercultural milieu in Aotearoa in the late seventies.

Posted in CHAPBOOKS, ESSAYS | Tagged ,

things I left out

Posted on August 1, 2018 by Miro Bilbrough

you steal other people’s stories, make yourself star confess by email solipsistic, I know you have the kind of eyes that put Isabella Rossellini out of work in movies or so she alleges smashed-avocado green cosmonauts ski slope cheeks you …

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Spider silk

Posted on September 20, 2016 by Miro Bilbrough

I used to see how far I could flirt with you, you say. A cool descriptor for those solar interventions, the way you draped yourself across the stair rail like a scarlet boa, slouchy, ever-ready in my path— the ungentle …

Posted in GUNCOTTON | Tagged

Imaginary Cinema

Posted on May 1, 2015 by Miro Bilbrough

Lonely as a ghost scouring time, I visit our western hunting grounds where ramshackle railway mansions pose as rooming houses peopled by green grocers’ apostrophes and rubber plants. Your 19th century visage buckles and swims under mind-glass. Two asterisks, your …

Posted in 68: NO THEME IV | Tagged

Tea Dances of this World

Posted on September 1, 2013 by Miro Bilbrough

In the market you pet a coffee-coloured poodle with tea-tinted eyes practising that peculiarly boneless flop of his kind. Liberated from love, love is everywhere but in the person of the beloved. You look like a garden suggests a five-o’clock-shadow-passer-by. …

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