sharps (pot au feu)

i am sit­ting in a darkened cinema rolling a spiky metal ringup and down my fin­ger­s­press­ing in sharpto stop myself scratch­ing­sigils into skin again it’s his­tory          soup that has been sim­mer­ing­through generations…

Drifting

It’s the week­end again and the rain lashes the windows.I’d had some thought of weed­ing the garden, but the wind­Has other ideas. These arti­fi­cial dis­tinc­tions we make­B­etween work­day and rest — we’ve been home for 63 daysAnd one blends into another. I could have…

The 6th Great Extinction

There are no platy­pus under the bridge again today. It’s the fourth week in a row and we all ask each other Instead of hello, “Seen any platy­pus?” — hope­ful And each time, it’s “Not today… not for a while…” None of us know whether it’s sea­sonal, but we all fear It’s…

POETRY

Rainbow Serpent

I am the world tree I am the woman, my branches reach­ing I am the ser­pent, entwined This is a story ancient and common My roots reach around a globe I feel all and know all I am light and desire And I cre­ated the earth I shed my self and the woman remem­bers I stroke…

California Vignette 1

For B.W. At home, she tries on voices, accents echo­ing around rooms. She says she can’t hold one down, that she is slid­ing towards a future lan­guage, not yet inven­ted. She spends her days plan­ning for dis­asters she hopes won’t happen. Her life is filled with…

Why we did nothing

For David Hicks, five years in Guantanamo Bay without charge They tor­ture him, Because he is Muslim Because he fought on the wrong side Because he is dif­fer­ent from them Yet we do noth­ing. They create laws with an eerily famil­iar ring, Because they cannot see past…

Outback justice

[after an increase in sexual dis­fig­ure­ment of indi­gen­ous women was repor­ted in The Age news­pa­per] I say no, don’t want that now, and he say, fine, Then no one gonna have you. Pours his stuff on me He been huffin’, they all do, Drops his durrie and I flame up Like it’s…

Rapunzel goes exploring

She’s a del­ic­ate rose Found in flowery prose And I’m not her. He reads seduct­ive books Where those kinds of looks Are all you need. I’ve always pre­ferred My words to be heard. A dif­fer­ent end: Rapun­zel rolls up her sleeves, Cuts her hair, weaves Her…

Stories

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Politics

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