08: FESTIVAL
Rudi Krausmann: The Launch
Since I am in Australia I have to talk, talk, talk and all I see is not people but parties, parties, parties. – Fay Weldon on promotional tour The real profits went to the publishers not the authors who …
Posted in 08: FESTIVAL Comments OffRudi Krausmann: The Reader
Found Poem at Harold Park Hotel The reader (a visiting American novelist) did not read he took from the pockets of his suit pieces of paper and said I did not think it would be so casual here well …
Posted in 08: FESTIVAL Comments OffCatherine Mair & Patricia Prime: from Katikati
hurling the pétanque boule, her thin little arm sandal coated in mud washed by the hose late home for lunch — avocado on toast beneath the magnifying glass, Scottish castle above the bananas a bridge at Firenze sharing his handkerchief …
Posted in 08: FESTIVAL Comments OffBill Pitt: all together now
train jerk-sailing through fairy meadow woonona bulli thirroul scraping and scrubbing mind just clearing the tracks how it feels again to crash through slow barriers of minutes afternoon towns of the stale, crushed public family loud puppytalk breaking glass in …
Posted in 08: FESTIVAL Comments OffRK Singh: Three poems
1 Tantra Drinking evening star blue green patterns before eyes no meditation no god visits to forgive the sinning soul in quietude 2 Hanuman Seven times he moves round the vermillion god under the peepal sprinkles water to …
Posted in 08: FESTIVAL Comments OffMatthew Power: Ferns
suggest green places for pausing, like commas curling damp of earth they say, this place is as yet experimenting, , , on the edge of clearings, like football crowds in green scarves, ferns watch whirling picnics wave their rugs like …
Posted in 08: FESTIVAL Comments OffGraham Rowlands: The RSPCA postcard
At last. A whole day to myself. Just as I pull out my chair, though I see them there, shorn on my desk- two sheep burst like bladders across a floor too bloody to be known by time & place …
Posted in 08: FESTIVAL Comments OffMick Searles: Behind Enemy Lines
1 he walks past once twice again & again now he hovers clenched fists sweat pouring ears pricked mouth agape his eyes bulging staring into every house every window his head darting back & forth like a clown at the …
Posted in 08: FESTIVAL Comments OffSarah French: simultaneous / soon
burn through cliches / a pack a day smoker / soon your smile will burn like paper / curl & disintegrate simultaneous / soon you'll become thin as a whisper / cough up a cast iron lung / soon you'll …
Posted in 08: FESTIVAL Comments Offm p french: The Garden of Earthly Delights
They grow cities on these flowers, she told me. I have seen faces emerge from the arms knotted behind a man's back. Sleepers; wings sprouted from the web of fingers. Dragon wings and a pterodactyl foetus. It's all there she …
Posted in 08: FESTIVAL Comments OffMichelle Carter: Maitland Bay
You hardly moved lying like a sea slug in sepia, dreaming of sky fluorescence. As if reading braille you ran your fingers over tiny shells, a trail of ornamental bones on bleached sand. Hours later the moon rose, full breasted, …
Posted in 08: FESTIVAL Comments OffMichelle Carter: Girlfriend
you dress me in brown suede boots & mini skirt say you’re bored of your husband of suburbia hand me half a pill promise me fun without misgiving i’m the serious one you’re streetwise we drive to the nearest club …
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