From here the region is reached by a narrow road, a long interval spaced with recesses. To arrive one must pass through the ruined and populous village.
Donna Quijote by Viorica Ciucanu Ana Dragu: Nothing Would Be the Same | Nimic nu ar mai fi la fel Ana Dragu: Love | Dragostea Ana Dragu: Love No | Dragoste Nu Ana Dragu: Fever | Febră Ana Dragu: March …
I suppose what we’ve been trying to do so far is establish a language space that deliberately alienates anyone and anything that enforces the gender binary. Pretty simple.
The poems in Doppelgangers Across Lands are from Vociferate|詠. These poems are inspired by Asian-American feminist poets Marilyn Chin and Wang Ping.
Whether you consider human conception to be the ultimate collaborative act or not, it’s certainly up there.
Tonight is our last night together. I shared my heartbeat with you – baby, you couldn’t fine your own.
A short interpretation of a 10th century fable that I really love, motivated by grief over the bushfires and everything that’s going wrong at the moment.
Dedication She asks me why I don’t write in Arabic. “You’re Arab, no?” “Eh, mbala … but …” I try, more question than statement. “I am … but …” Always a disclaimer. What I want to say, “What does it …
In curating this chapbook I’m not sure I feel closer to answering these questions: certainly they are never stagnant … But I do feel closer to poetry’s resistance to answer these questions, which does circle back to some kind of answer to my last question – we return to poetry not because we have an answer, but instead return in a process of regeneration.
Poutchensing Uppi break our tongues Uppi find holes in our ears sink as you tell us to kneel Small allowances to make the Akkaraya split into six, one less than the Sumānaya, at least one less then. Torn …
Homecoming Thank god she offered the exit row aisle. “You don’t want the center seat,” she said. “It’s miserable,” neither of us said. In the case of emergency I have consented to assist. In the case of oxygen, I’m to …
During a recent conversation, a friend and fellow writer asked what I considered to be my greatest literary strength. I am grateful for her patience, because I definitely didn’t arrive at a speedy conclusion.
Tonight there’s an opening at Fort Lane downtown, the space is partially uncovered so I have to dress warm. It’s my old team at Council. I don’t know if I want to see them all again before I leave.
In Plato’s Phaedo, Socrates likens pleasure and pain to nails binding the soul to the body, resulting in a heavy, stained, monstrous identity, ultimately incapable of achieving the spiritual transcendence due to a true philosopher.
Through my writing, I am speaking to something larger than myself. I write in conversation with trans, mad,crip, and sex worker communities, and with all other marginalised peoples whose struggles are bound up with my own.
I’m excited to curate these artists to celebrate the communicative complexities of the body-sonic sphere. In an environment that is increasingly negotiated through algorithmic and predictive technology, this work allows us to re-examine orality.
Ten atmospheres is a graphic sequence that embeds the word atmosphere in a matrix of the alphabet. Ten letters in the word give ten pages; five have the word picked out vertically, five have it picked out horizontally.
We are researching western Melbourne waterways through the period of the late-nineteenth and twentieth centuries, to write and produce a suite of creative works which explore industrial history and environmental change over time, and the lives of people who lived and worked along their banks.
The male gaze has been discussed at length. The female gaze, not as much. This ekphrastic project is about the latter.
Numbers is one of several of my new books and chapbooks that are collage-poems or collage with matching poems.
I did not want to build a falling-down house of rhetoric / Or even one that could stand all the huffing and puffing
‘Emerging’ is a strange word, and ‘strange’ is probably a cop out. It is often arbitrary, sometimes condescending, frequently empowering and often carries with it an incredible sense of community.
In this selection of poems, Lee Cataldi writes in a spare, lean, direct way, steered by an aesthetic of restraint. She often uses internal spacing and short stanzas to re-enforce her measure. A sense of loss inhabits a number of the poems.