Index of poets

Jen Crawford


Andrew Burke
Jen Crawford
MTC Cronin
Del Ray Cross
Laurie Duggan
kari edwards
Michael Farrell
William Fox
Angela Gardner
Kristin Hannaford
Jill Jones
Jayne Fenton Keane
S.K. Kelen
John Leonard
Anthony Lynch
Aoife Mannix
Chris Mansell
Heather Matthew
Peter Minter
Brendan Ryan
Jaya Savige
Gerald Schwartz
Lawrence Upton
Les Wicks
Tim Yu



your body is growing older without me
and I know the address. now it's a
shoalhaven houseboat with her with
him with pills weed a yo-ho-ho with
cream with mud

in the mud things I imagine are happening
all the time tiny ventricular holes are bubbling
upwards creatures are building their homes

I remember the cut but not which side how
many stitchpoints that you were shaped
like an unharmed shell and I lifted
my neck to be cupped
by your warm hand


back from the houseboat you grumble that
they fought like you and I did, a hank of hair
in melodrama's hand and so beautiful
overboard. I have to ask you
to clarify the pronoun 'she', which reminds me
of something I half-wrote and lost
meaning whole characters to be blurred
behind a shop-front word
meaning confusion
to hold the thing together -
'but we're not the same' you object
and I do agree - thinking
it makes no difference
who you mean


the clean lines of the self
against a foggy world.
a red vessel cuts a rhombic hole
into morning's skin. you insist
it's not to do with you, a state
or a tower, alone, martyred, eternal
in your moment of melting walls
and fortuitous deaths. I can't blame you;
if we were animals, I know
I'd also like to be meat.
someone would want to eat me
and despite my large, wet eye
I'd secretly be proud.


what about constellations? jung, and bees,
and herds of cows who know which fence is live
before a single one gets zapped?
so you dial in for connection
another connection, like string
hooking nails on a board
to make the shape of a fish
which will soon be complete and
colourful, like other fish -
enough to flick its tail and dart away


you show me
jupiter with four moons
tilted rings for a steadied eye
orion's hot red foot.
despite the fog and the swagger
I haven't a telescope,
know that I need you.
salve for the itching, fading insect
we'll call your transplant scar.


poet's biography ->

Poems | Poets | Submissions | Editorial Issue 1 | foam:e home