CONTRIBUTORS

Nicholas Powell

Nicholas Powell’s first full-length collection, Water Mirrors, won the 2011 Thomas Shapcott Poetry Prize, and is published by UQP. In 2007, he received a Young Australian Poets Fellowship. He lives in Helsinki.

Function of a Function

A little light on the reckoning stone lets limits become infinite for some value varying with the spheres, whatever the size of the constants. Bending the moment, the body will reach. Approaching zero our next step is to find value …

Posted in 83: MATHEMATICS | Tagged

Flat Pamphlet Chat

The Slow Coach runs hourly for the liturgy and watercolours where the teddy bears’ fur shows how well loved they were. In addition to the sheep-pen and The Best Years of My Life, community singing, appealing figures in traditional dress. …

Posted in 82: LAND | Tagged

Headland

You slept on a bench and woke to trace a con- trail to dim rooms where you and I are inseparable. And yet you are alone, staring at wall- paper fairytales, hearing rumours on the lawn, tennis, tinkling cutlery and …

Posted in 51.1 : UMAMI | Tagged

Operation ‘Or’

Operation ‘or’ of current loud and a fence: the cattle were driven pictorially under the opening credits. We assume the machine, we carry the one. If you live in London or motorcar you may apply for this job. Don’t always …

Posted in 43.0: MASQUE | Tagged

Review Short: B.R. Dionysius’ Bowra

BowraB.R Dionysius’ Bowra is a collection of fifty-two prose sonnets of sustained intensity and engagement with place, from the fringes of southeast Queensland’s urban sprawl, west to Cunnamulla, with excursions to California and Kazakhstan. These poems count the human and environmental cost of various man-made tragedies. The fourteen-line constraint works to unravel an anecdote and/or piece of narrative sequence at once self-contained and part of the larger ambition of the book: to serve as a selective local history. The consistently restive and physical language is as uncompromised, and at times bewildering, as the landscapes and situations it describes.

Posted in BOOK REVIEWS | Tagged ,

Soft Classic

New room. Pillows thumped into shape. Twilight, pink and slim as hotel soap unwrapped and lathered, shrinks. From the bed, two small windows, one above the other, separated by a strip of wall which breaks the contained palm in two. …

Posted in 41.0: TRANSPACIFIC | Tagged

Why Islands

For our next trick we disfigure the puma. O to be marooned with Ginger or Calypso. You have committed a horrible act involving an orange. Cheerio black sheep, dark horse, sore thumb. Go hunt coconut with slingshot, prize silence, imbibe …

Posted in 41.0: TRANSPACIFIC | Tagged

Postcards from ‘The Neon Cactus’

I ‘Mother me, sunlight’. Fashionable mantras pass the time from one damp hand to the other, anesthetizing the old embarrassments I am writing you in order to water down. The hotelier has me make up the rooms, tart up the …

Posted in 41.0: TRANSPACIFIC | Tagged

Q, Without My Female Typist

          I believe I was the first to see the possibility of pulling up the             timber and opening up this land.                                         -J. Bjelke-Petersen. At the window ledge, meadow-edge, misreading Tranströmer: ‘The mind wind walks in the pine forest’. wind ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ mind …

Posted in 39.1: GIBBERBIRD | Tagged

Nicholas Powell Reviews Grant Caldwell

glass clouds by Grant Caldwell Five Islands Press, 2010 For nearly three decades Grant Caldwell has been writing some of the more interesting and fearless poetry in Australia. A relentless observer of the absurd and odd, Caldwell’s predominant tone has …

Posted in BOOK REVIEWS | Tagged ,

Footing

My foot on the wood and the heat surging through it seems a bourgeois grandeur here in the public sauna. A long way from the hot bitumen of home. I am no exile, though I doubt I belong here in …

Posted in 30.0: CUSTOM | Tagged

Paddocks

Looking out across paddocks I fall silent. Here is the expanse I wanted inside myself. I am looking forward to an unbroken horizon the sun has disappeared behind. Say, I try to fly there, opening and closing a little wingspan …

Posted in 29.0: PASTORAL | Tagged