Issue Sixteen • Poetry
June 15, 2026
By Steve Evans one of glass one of water one of ice one of barbed wire one of leather one of dust one of love letters one of...
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By Kitty Owens A pilgrimage. The Murtoa Stick Shed, aka The Cathedral of the Wimmera. Dusty roads lead to the urn at the gate. Fortifying...
By Samantha Medina Diaz Here is the story of how women fight for equality to have an education. A woman can be smart but also strong and...
By Kitty Owens Looking at an old photo of the lake there is a delicious moment as I get my bearings. The shock of the old. Throngs of...
By Rob McKinnon London, 1 August 1801 Warm summer breeze caressing your young cold wet body, Who is missing you tonight? Darkness...
By Steve Evans London grows upward, constantly burying its past in layers for supposed progress or repair, but digging for a new sewer can...
By Ruby Hanlon This poem explores the fragmented inner consciousness of a 19th-century woman struggling with rigid domestic expectations,...
June 1, 2026
By Rob McKinnon Trigger warning: sexual abuse, hanging references (At age 21, Glen Sabre Valance was the last person to be hung in South...
By Jack Dawson I went once, in wet sandals to a stupid sea I used to watch. Atop a bluff, the daylight chewed to pieces, to slivers,...
Issue Fifteen • Poetry
June 10, 2025
By Karlo Sevilla The mother calls her little girl’s name through the megaphone, hopes that like Lazarus, the child will arise from the...
By Rosalie Hendon We were going to hike, but instead we go to the site where a president was murdered We find the memorial first,...
By April Stevens Auburn, like a winter’s flame a fierce tongue, a beautiful name. Her freckles a hundred kisses on her skin, Encompassing...
By Peter Kaczmarczyk I sit on Lexington Green Writing poetry as I did When I was sixteen A place of spirits Where soldiers died at early...
By Peter Kaczmarczyk I enter the house just off the road, mostly hidden from the view of passers-by. Resting on land reclaimed by nature,...
By Maria Griffin here, a thing. behind it: another. there, a third. three things sit, each in its place, as if arranged, pleasingly...
Issue Fourteen • Issue Fourteen Poetry • Poetry
June 6, 2023
CONTENT WARNING : This work contains material that some readers may find disturbing; please continue at your own discretion. Confession at...
Lingchi Jon Culp i Inherited a pair of right-handed scissors- from depths of the basket of twist-thread and patterns beside...
Irish Green Ann Kathryn Kelly I am from an Irish Clan’s love, strong as bedrock, deep as ocean. The baby in the family almost...
A HISTORY OF CHESS Mark Mitchell I am still a victim of chess… —Marcel Duchamp I was not born under stone mountains in...
This Peter Loveday If all the lines begin with who, or why, or how pointing directly at what they want to know what hope is there in...
Issue Thirteen • Issue Thirteen Poetry • Poetry
May 24, 2022
By Joshua Klarica Even though I have stood here more times than I could count, in the chattering cold of mid-winters dawn, and bleaks...
By Magdalena Ball Her grandparents were forced to take last names. How to choose: occupation, toponym, personal qualities, lineage?...
By Jesse Fleming “J.J. Astor, the richest man on board and a pariah in American polite society, was redeemed by his self-sacrificing...
By David Atkinson Who’ll go a round or two for a pound or two? — Jimmy Sharman The town’s tough, unlimited...
By Peter Mitchell ‘They walk the edge, and from the edge fly out, testing and trying out their lives’ Potiki, Patricia Grace...
By Bill Cotter Memories of hay carting in the early 1960’s, Western Victoria The Bedford coughs, lurches, and stops by the hay...
By Hibah Shabkhez Flocking and gawking at the piece of clay We excavate profound thoughts like toothpaste Dredged up from an empty tube....
By Hibah Shabkhez From the sunlit fringes of cloud Yesterday’s ghost watches You, counting your footsteps aloud Like ounces of black...
Issue Twelve • Issue Twelve Poetry • Poetry
November 25, 2021
by Mary Chydiriotis (Lesvos, Greece, 1942) Artemis is small and nimble apron loaded with courgettes pockets crammed with parsley...
by Lorraine Gibson I’m drinking ancestors’ tears, praising their liquid forms — sip, sip — savouring them oh so slowly in...
