25: GENERATION OF ZEROES



Trisha Kotai-Ewers: Tashi

Tashi sits at the side of the stage in the bamboo chair. A monk in golden robes on a blood red seat. Tashi sits on stage in his cell in Tibet the pages of his magazine scattered in his head …

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Acid Wash

          I saw Pete Thompson thirty-four days ago and can't shake the image from my mind. He didn't look much different to the days when I learned to hate him ?± except the beer gut. His blond hair had lost the …

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Timothy Barbon: looking happy

and it's just morning but warm already they're looking for scraps they're snacking on the leftovers two dogs on the train tracks. clack! it's a sedan on the crossing it's been smacked up the back by a station wagon and …

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Tara Motherwell: Slow News day

The teapot, once dropped from a two storey window, now skated down the street on tiptoes.  

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Kimberley @ Sunset

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The truth about everything

expressed digitally the answer to everything                                  is one. or nothing.

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things that I would like to tell my son

the word sky is a physical background to many birds with small eyes & 1000 flights & the collective skin of all memories is journeyless when compared with dream & Dylan Thomas & silence & yesterday I confused buoyancy with …

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th[e] broken

the broken wings   of spent birds, flying until overweight with pollution & a closing sky                               th broken promises      that saw a short, dry cleaned pedestrian questioning his small existence                                                                                            only later,                                                                 a reduction in afternoon                               the broken child   confused in a   mix master of …

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the square root of a full stop is the square root of 64

1st answer a man walks through the door picks up a broom and sweeps all the heads into the corner he is paid to clean the factory floor of memory and as he appears to us he will vanish as …

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Monica Carroll: écrivain in the capital

 

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Species Counterpoint

Last night a few stars came into our room and the moon in a dark suit sifted through my washing. I watched as dreams performed above your head little snowstorms in a night-bubble. Through your body a tide came and …

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Colour 1962 – 2003

Somewhere in the colour of sleep is a shade of you. I listen but you're long into the night already. The horse I ride sweats yet we barely cover the length of our echo through the tableland of this nocturnal …

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