Poetry Archives

Sometimes late at night I play with my radio, trying to tune in the dead. A nine-band Panasonic, ears on the world, AM, FM...

By Young Dawkins

My arms flecked with brown stained with sun I masticate ...

By Tess Ridgway

The gathering with placards is, give or take, the normal size. The speech is not unlike the last but tweaked for the...

By Geoff Page

[ ]woe to tetravalent metalloids and over eager semiconductors! Beards of purest silicon,...

By Joel Ephraims

This is barefoot country even now, in early winter when the cool mountain air dampens the risk of a startled snake rising in...

By Alison Thompson

Sitting with empty creels on the bright side of the water we believe there are no fish. Billy Hoops lands beers from the...

By Young Dawkins

In the light that steals across dead valleys like a shallow wave anything that lives has lost its solid presence the...

Come in, dead Emily. Judith Wright, ‘Rosina Alcona to Julius Brenzaida’ All these lines we funnel, have need of. The dead trouble...

By John Kinsella

I heard they grew Winston Churchill in a Petri dish, from stem cells and DNA. Identical, or so they said. He lives in...

By Alys Jackson

Meltdown in a shopping mall The security guards who circle my son look at me for guidance. Their authority has crumbled. I’m in total...

By Anthony Macris

A hard name There were reds under the beds when we were growing up and someone at school always ridiculed my name the name...

The rosy she-oak table gleams, laden with bowls of steamy stew, a bottle of red and four glasses. The glissando of our...

By Laura Jan Shore