Isi Unikowski


As always, time’s sieve selects a myth from the facts, the way the city—a pith spilled from the karst— is pushed pack into the yellow haze despite the ships’ urgency to its quayside as if to leave room for the …

Posted in 84: SUBURBIA | Tagged


Our sun-cankered, frost-lacerated old bomb has usurped a spot beside a Milky Way of faces. Fingers tapping on the dash, I stare up at pigeons filibustering on ledges outside floors lit by cleaners; at the back of my hand charting …

Posted in 66: OBSOLETE | Tagged

Grey, Green, Silver (elemental machine)

I had forgotten rain’s mechanism: how it doesn’t fall but is requisitioned, plucked from a city’s plumage that in its arrogance of towers has forgotten to ask, windows like little green parks peering onto cafes, consultants’ cases arranged between tables …

Posted in 62: MELBOURNE | Tagged