CONTRIBUTORS

Stuart Barnes

Stuart Barnes

About Stuart Barnes

Stuart BarnesThe Staysails (UQP, 2016) won the 2015 Thomas Shapcott Poetry Prize. He is poetry editor of Tincture Journal and tweets as @StuartABarnes.



Website:
https://stuartabarnes.wordpress.com/

Tenons

“You’ll feel quite at home.” Here at the earth’s end at the end of my bed. At the end of the day. At the end, words won’t be an issue. Time will end an end to grey? on a slope …

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Cinquecento

The house received all ornaments to grace it, The walls were of discolour’d jasper-stone, One window shut, the other open stood, The time is come, I must depart My last thread, I shall perish on the shore; Ring out your …

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Reflections

On May 31, 2011, as headliner of Sydney’s VIVID LIVE, The Cure played one of two ‘Reflections’ Shows – its first three LPs (Three Imaginary Boys, Seventeen Seconds, Faith) in their entirety, as well as a fourteen track encore; ‘The …

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‘King’ James Malley: Genesis

WHETHER we listen with aloof amusement to the dreamlike mumbo jumbo of some red-eyed witch doctor of the Congo, or read with cultivated rapture thin translations from the sonnets of the mystic Lao-tse; now and again crack the hard nutshell …

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‘King’ James Malley: Revelation

The modern hero, the modern individual who dares to heed the call and seek the mansion of that presence with whom it is our whole destiny to be atoned, cannot, indeed must not, wait for his community to cast of …

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‘King’ James Malley: Prayer of Manasses

The figure of the tyrant-monster is known to the mythologies, folk traditions, legends, and even nightmares, of the world; and his characteristics are everywhere essentially the same. He had not been down that way under The Hill for ages and …

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Janice ‘Pearl’ Malley: The 27 Club

ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE ––– my name was Salmon, like the fish; first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was raped and bled for diffidence, bad grammar, sadder cliché. Or was it Dylan Thomas Aquinas, il …

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Aurelia Schober Malley: So I Was

‘Dearest Mummy’, loving and reproachful, a tightened mouth in a face puckered up and quivered like a pale jelly. Your barnacled umbilicus, the lovers’ fat, paralyzing red placenta, that bald, wild knuckle white moon unloosing bats and owls, dragging seas …

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Doppelganger

I lack, unlike the others, a menagerie of identities (multiple hes who co- exist within the same body: the sack of clotted blood and glowing flesh and gangly bones that one calls home); there simply are two mes: Pieta, marble …

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In the Gods

in the gods left eardrums a whisper, the caterers want to know where to put the profiteroles – its over forty degrees & they wont fit in the bar fridge? but I’m distracted by the scent of Christmas ivy It’s …

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A Day

In the gods

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