Index of poets

Jaya Savige


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


At the center for convict and conservation studies
a poet gets over her battle with emphysema.
She looks out over the way to Antarctica,
is freed up, like a whale without a harpoon
& ink jets through the blow-hole of her pen.
Far beyond the southern ocean
black penguins skate across clean ice.




this whole damned celluloid psychotropia,
ie. secular televangelism, exacerbates my lumbago.
I plot the plot points of the afternoon, then attempt
to contemplate the joy two Californian half-brothers
took re-enacting a scene from their favourite
mobster soap, severing their mother's hands with a jig-saw;
then fancy them confessing to reading Ovid, his collected
upon their desks, also to embellishment, appropriation,
transumption, quotation, allusion and metalepsis
but above all posterity, and conclude we've come no
farther than the Greeks: we miscarry hard before the
accuracy of a chorus & for those wanting to know:
sons serve no time for their inevitable matricide:
the elaborate tapestry they'd made of their mother's arteries
was foisted off by the authorities
as an intensely creative misreading.




another beautiful day -
                                 palm fronds nod on the breeze
                 a wasp bounces by a rusted support
even the sound of a truck stuck in second
bound for a timber quarry on the Sunshine Coast
hauling its load
                            goads the quiet
the way a salt poultice draws wine from the carpet.
a box of matches from the Monastery (nightclub)
a two-tiered ashtray
both layers the iconic shape of flowers.
you enter
exhausted from singing & dancing 'I go to Rio'
proceed to show me a new swivel of the hips
that you couldn't do in class but
can now that no-one is watching but me.
putting your sunglasses down,
you grab a glass of Multi-V, turn and say,
Since when did my oil-burner become an ashtray...?




A dark road.
At this, you break up. It's only
the thin bisque of oblivion.
The light works, turn it on. You're asleep,
how can you be speaking? So much death, your hand
over your heart, so much death - and men
in Chinese soup. You climb the ladder
of the dream, then raise the lid,
& all you have to do is sing.


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