June 8, 2018
By Moya Pacey His right hand grips the pen dips in and out of the ink-pot – marks the sheet of white paper bold with black...
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Issue Five • Issue Five Poetry • Poetry
By Ali Whitelock in the cafe with coffee cups for lampshades and the sign that says please do not pee in the sink we take an outside...
By Ramon Loyola Twenty years in the forest in the faces and breaths, not in the last century or in the now of times, my...
By Anita Patel How many borders will you cross to reach this land? How many doors will you close – forever? How many...
By Jenny Blackford Our handyman, friend of an old friend, was life support for many years to our decaying inner-city house. One day,...
By Jenny Blackford The flowers in the garden of the inner-city Muslim school are kangaroo paws just like mine at home- ...
By Sandra Renew she still remembers the brass teapot trampled under soldiers’ boots but then retrieved dusted off and...
By Nessa O’Mahony His regular spot; curled foetus-tight, back to the wall at the end of the canal, near the bridge at Baggot...
By Ellen Shelley On an ordinary day the water stills the air waves fall silent birds on parachute wings spiral to gorund...
by Richard James Allen Only weeks, months, at the most a year or so, before Gough Whitlam’s ‘It’s Time’ changed everything, for a...
By Geoff Budden The tides and capes of Bonavista now safely astern, Newfoundland below the western horizon they sailed into the new...
By Bill Cotter It is a travesty of dawn, this dank And oily semi light, oozing through The alleys, the shattered windows and...
By Jeremy C. North This evening, intrepid plans are forged. A familiar tune of starry-eyed wanderlust that emanates from share flat...
By Duncan Richardson they knew it was him though the fish had scribed their own verses on his skin they knew it was him from...
Issue Four • Poetry
December 9, 2017
To commemorate the Official State Visit to Australia 2017 by Michael D. Higgins, President of Ireland, we are deeply honoured and grateful...
December 6, 2017
By Tess Barry Out of her twig-filled lungs a strong wind whirls she is a small stream obstructed a standing body...
By Tess Barry Eat lemon altogether, she says, cold go out. What you play? Luna Sonata? My fevered fingers stumble through...
(Bridget Cox Bishop, 1848-1912) By Geoff Budden J Cox and his five sons lost in their boat off the Harbor April 24, 1859....
By Geoff Budden At home in taverns, not in homes, you left when your daughter was four years old. Your own final home was a needle...
By Dr Wendy J Dunn Lest we forget The First World War They said Ground soaked With blood With countless dead Lest we forget Another...
By Jordan King-Lacroix I. On a leaky boat, they came, needing to change their name once, in the village to sound less Jewish...
By Jordan King-Lacroix The clouds, ha! The clouds! Did you see them when they passed overhead? So slow, like molasses,...
By Eleanor Hooker Ghost me. Fossil me. ...
By Nathanael O’Reilly In a centuries-old English church where Jane Austen worshipped, my daughter performs her role on the steps...
By Kenneth Pobo My grandmother’s house, weathered, a dirt driveway. When I visit she makes a cherry pie. I help her pit. She tells...
By Jonathan Greenwood This palace, ’tis a thing of splendour and class With chimneys of pepperpot and weathervanes of brass;...
By Anne Casey A penny in a new purse (that it may never be empty) The Child of Prague left out all night (to bring a dry day for the...
Issue Three • Poetry
June 17, 2017
By Jan Price Panel l. The Inspiration London – East End; a barefoot lad slips into...
By Bill Cotter Suffer little children to come unto me: for such is the kingdom of heaven. The sky sickens And fuses darkness,...
By Jan Price Down the arch-groan monastery road coursing these treeless bitten mountains a sharp dismissive wind snatches from the...
