CONTRIBUTORS

Toby Fitch

Toby Fitch

About Toby Fitch

Toby Fitch is poetry editor of Overland and the author of Rawshock (Puncher & Wattmann 2012), which won the Grace Leven Prize for Poetry, Jerilderies (Vagabond 2014), and The Bloomin’ Notions of Other & Beau (Vagabond 2016). He lives in Sydney where he works as a teacher of creative writing, an editor, a poetry events organiser, and etc.

Website:
http://tobyfitch.blogspot.com

Argo Notes

1 irreverence of being a baby amniotic fluid sonic bubble & blood i find you forget you the heart’s action & breathing i keep forgetting you makes spontaneous gesture possible but you remember me our conference about breastfeeding i lose …

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Feel Like I’m Somehow Related to Everyone on the Internet

I am outraged / have been as long as I can remember The sky’s a projector & the moon was brought here by aliens To keep us informed of the shitstorms going on I am outraged / been a member …

Posted in 86: NO THEME VII | Tagged | Leave a comment

The Left Hand of Dankness

/ facts seem to alter w/ an altered voice as one counts capital backwards / i didn’t know it was raining / dank advancing comfortably as fish to the various electric musics that echo thru the deep state / polished …

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Illiterature

I’ll start this off without any words, watching them pass like clouds in the sky, too busy sucking. On warm milk and laxatives I’ll walk you through heartbreak, show you the out-takes—all the dead wood from jungles and cities on …

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Poetry of the Eye: The Visual Aspects of Poetry

Image by Tim Grey Presented by Cordite Publishing Inc. and Australian Poetry, and hosted by poet Toby Fitch, this workshop at the 2016 Emerging Writers’ Festival will open your eyes to the potential of the poem on the page. By …

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After the Orgy

i is an / ugh it’s an ignoramus jamais jamais u say / or maybe nether nether its inland sequel is counting on this Eur optic allusion to echo it &/ or braise it w/ outsourcery in terror pots of …

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Orb

noon when i woke Dawn long since fallen with a plonk or was that my child on timber floors her massive booty surrounded by discarded labels from the discount sales she crashed at the top of the main drag last …

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Villainesque²

We met as phantoms in the mountains, Unable to avoid the transnational arm of sleep Of whatever city we got raised in. I had such a beautiful dreamtime, an electric field, My only weapon against it was to escape Like …

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from Jerilderies

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Marooned

(a homophonic inversion of Rimbaud’s Marine) DON’T! HOO SANG EX HORTING TURBINES OF LOOM O FURRY FRUITS EXTRA TEA VERITABLY PILLED UP IN THE FORAY IF I LENT OUT SIR CUSS MEN FOR LESS IT’D BE AUDENRY WE SUCK ON …

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Rock Bottom

after Rimbaud The first dawn of June was a dark aquarium belligerent submarines hurled themselves at my chest. The National Security Agency had trumpeted my grave and branded my ass with an ardency we couldn’t run off in the fields. …

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Alchemical

Your electric moon breast My black-trunked, gold-leaf slip Fall into flux Dissipate like white plumes You’re especially wild With a strange malaise for more Metallic aches, we moor Ourselves to a daisy, sit two abreast: Brush strokes of willed Grass …

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