Lizz Murphy

Review Short: Lizz Murphy’s Shebird

It was these lines from Lizz Murphy’s book of micro poetry, Shebird, which entranced me into selecting it for review. The simple yet effective metaphor, the point at which the mundanity of western life and the horrific reality of child labourers converge, at the crossroads of consumerism: this was what brought me into entering the world of Shebird, the ‘woman or girl who wears the shroud of widows, guards the new grave, tastes gun’.

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sideslide mindslew curious tubular misshapen still stillutterly still they always say curseleap backupwards onto chair it also leap levitate loop hoop neckhigh hoop and hoop our mouths faces unlatched screamsilent racehearts wreathing noose and coil reptilian taupe bronzestrikes the far …

Posted in 59: GONDWANALAND | Tagged

Through a Child’s Eyes

She is a child whose play eyes settle on the fine grains sweetly falling through sugar fingers She is a child whose factory eyes settle on a shatter of sequins like falling fire or a stitched up sky When night …

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