Zan Ross


Something comes out of nothing across the water on days when I am clear about sound, touch, a sharpness of taste as external. I mount the ferry, dramamine—s cradle — passage paid this side of the river. Arrival is rope …

Posted in 06: NEW POETRY | Tagged

Two-for-One x Three

Six versions of green towel on rack, my head flat to porcelain — hot flesh chilli thrust up the wall. A matter of interpretation: disjunctive prostheses a) mid-thigh to foot, b) fore-arm and hand, c) brain in a jar, d) …

Posted in 06: NEW POETRY | Tagged


This lithograph of four turtles – I’ve carried it in my satchel for months, its corrugated edges dig it into fingerpads as I search for pens, lectures, tutorials, the thrust of the treatise, dust from books fifty years old masking …

Posted in 02: UNTHEMED | Tagged