(Michael Ondaatje vs. alicia sometimes) At first she refused to sing. But here she was. A long brown dress, with fringes. Fred Longshaw at the piano. I slip by the mike, throw trashed words into laps. my bass is chalk.…
(Michael Ondaatje vs. alicia sometimes) At first she refused to sing. But here she was. A long brown dress, with fringes. Fred Longshaw at the piano. I slip by the mike, throw trashed words into laps. my bass is chalk.…
With November receding far into the distance – how was THAT for a December that got a bunch of chemicals dumped on it in the middle of a lightning storm, hah? – it’s time to reflect upon the remainder of…
In late October Ivy Alvarez put the call out to poets to send her one poem a week on a postcard throughout November, in return for which she would do the same. I was interested in the idea, not only…
Malakh lands himself in trouble. Abdiel acts indifferently during a movie date with Gabriel. Metatron defends Sachiel’s decision to breastfeed in public. Uriel promises to watch Arariel in the sprint race. Urania is desperate to fall pregnant. Sachiel discovers that…
we are timeless infinite eternal magnificent until we drift back to earth together sated angels in mutual embrace
I have a word-based contribution on cordite at the mo, part of the oz-ko (envoy) issue, which is the prelude to the forthcoming oz-ko issue that will feature Korean poets translated into English and Australian poets translated into Hangul, which,…
On Sunday night he checks the fridge: last night’s noodles for lunch on Monday, leftover tikka masala on Tuesday, the last piece of spinach pie on Wednesday, pumpkin soup Thursday, sandwich on Friday. Even though it’s payday on Thursday he’ll…
Last week’s poem post was kind of a sample from a collaborative poem that’s going to be in Overland 200, which is due out in September. Award-winning Wagga Wagga poet Mr. Derek Motion, whom some of you might also remember…
The Director of Victory kept the future in mind. The moon’s bad luck gave the writers a tool. They ran the website and loaned out their tears. The money was endless where they lived. No writer knows how to work…