26.0: INNOCENCE

Poetry Editor MTC Cronin
Released July 2007
Index of Poems
Contributor Notes
Cover image: Kent MacCarter

In 2007, we returned to a binary format, with the twin William Blake-inspired issues of INNOCENCE and EXPERIENCE. Join Margie Cronin in this bumper issue’s worth of innocent but never innocuous poems!




Paul Mitchell: A Series of Good Investments

He sits with his thumbs in knots a sparrow nestled in his stomach rolls no need now for further talk of flight or the lack therof, no need for further, distance or any departure time, long distance call or marker. …

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Paul Mitchell: Dear Dad

Dear Dad Check this link … http://toldyouIdgetbackatyoupsychoanalyticallyformum.com Love Siggy     >Notice – This memory contains paranoia and counter-transference insights >intended only for the intrusive use of the anaclitic named above. If you >are not the intended regression of this …

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Nathan Shepherdson: thoughts that wouldn’t choose to think of themselves again

0.07792208 that i didn't realise that you didn't realise did you realise this 0.16233767 and letting go of your hand i realised that you had no hand 0.25324677 i never realised how difficult it would be to register sleep as …

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Michael Farrell: the j letter

the deity hangs in the air taking up & allowing all the space there note to future note to past the page is the poem & the poem a defence the press will set this in what ever fashion they …

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Michael Farrell: boyhood

grown & overgrown shrink. folding bear collapses under its own weight. under living of night putting on bling & preparing one thing then another eating their brains up. doke is it. satans waynebow. my boyhood among the outlaws. keep the …

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Lorin Ford: Variations on six innocent lines

The way to Blake is to open the door for Chaucer   Spring the bawdy house. That'll bring 'em on-scent. I am a woman. Refer to them as slip-ons, Dear, not brothel-creepers. Mirror balls. Multi-focal lenses. Stalked by an apogee. …

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Lee Kofman: Visotsky in The Men's Gallery

I heard some Russian poets have been recently resurrected. Visotsky ended up being resurrected in Melbourne, in a bar called The Men's Gallery. Naturally, he asked for vodka. The young bartender with the fountain of spiky hair enquired whether he …

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Lee Kofman: Sylvia in the Psych Ward

Writes poetry about her cat Because she has no one else to write about Tends to stray dogs Because humans bite Feeds a bird Barks at her doctor: No more medications! They're made of animal fat

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Lee Kofman: Suggestions for a girls’ school curriculum

It should be taught how not to choose your lovers. Lesson number one: beware of men who go days without kissing you with their tongue, saying they have intimacy problems. Then they kiss you for hours, wounding your lips, wearing …

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Lee Kofman: In a shower

Nowadays, when I do not make love, I often lose my body. In a shower my gaze slips. I feel shy noticing I have a pink, fleshy arse.

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Lee Kofman: Every Woman Needs a Jewish Husband

Look at my mother. She has this talent for dismissing hundreds of years of desire. She lifts her hand, dripping fat and kindness. Shakespeare, Schmakespeare, she says. What this Julia really needs is to find a faithful, Jewish husband.

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Kate Schapira: The Saint of Magnets

palms magnets and names rise to plastic, letting boys know they've been there. Confidence is turquoise and red upholds smiling, boys in uniform, grown boys,         cut-out and glitter shapes boys hands. Empty magnets gap their amalgam mouths. Uniforms mark …

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John West: Dreaming of Dead Horses

You think you have suffered then a girl you know her mother she says had fifty years hard drinking now she hears phones ring in loaves of bread the woman in the next room (a world champion wrestler) is employed …

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John Leonard: Among the Poets

Orioles still sing, and the leaves fall – Li Bo is stepping from a boat. Edward Thomas tends to brood, but Ho Xuan Hong has done with that. Emily Dickinson leaves punctuation, society, Alone; what are they – to love? …

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Joel Magarey: The Australian Males Rules American Football Dream

I'm running. I have the ball. I hold it close to my chest. It's mine. I think I know what it is. I think I know where I'm running. I think I'm running towards the touchline. Tall long-haired women wearing …

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