Shogun from Royal Headache, in the clip for Carolina, hawked and spat out of their monochrome practice room into colour Petersham — Fed Era red brick Reg Mombasa through Sydney …
Your Writing Tastes Like Blood (Gemma Ann White)
(For Robbie Coburn) Sacrificial. Long stroke of metal across your chest. Caged. Hot-toed animal wanting to escape. Fear. Incriminating as the first monthly bleed. Gone. Mind so very far from …
Green Dream (Joe Dolce)
Not absinthe or a world without global warming, the barbiturate Nembutal illegally imported, mail-order, in perfume boxes from Mexico, Peru, Bangkok, Beijing, Tijuana (destination of choice for death tourists) available …
Australia’s Conflict of Values over Live Exports: P.S. Cottier reviews Backlash by Bidda Jones & Julian Davies
Review by P.S. Cottier As I was reading Backlash, the NSW State Liberal Government and the ACT Labor (with a dash of Green) Government announced that they would both abolish …
Sea of Souls (James Walton)
There’s a cove. A house straggles a sagging beach, where behind a patched blind the Hendrix version of All Along the Watchtower sends its summons through the wave speakers. God …
Fudgepackers (Daniel Young)
“Fudgepackers!” said John, referring to our American corporate overseers. The spaceship-like Polycom phone had only just made a final crackle before falling silent, so my offence at him using that …
Safety of shells (Meredith Pitt)
Bivalves diffuse force to their outer edges while screw-shaped shells send the pressure to their outer rings The soft creature is protected from the crushing reality of a weapon in …
VERITY LA POETRY PODCAST Episode 1: Phillip Hall
PHILLIP HALL: Each month, the Verity La Poetry Podcast talks with a member of our poetic community. We discuss a poem they’ve published in the journal, as well as hear about a poet they admire. …
Flesh Memory (Elisabeth Murray)
(Edited by Michelle McLaren) Her skin crawled with sweat. She gathered her shirt and let the hot air seethe up her spine, to her bra, to her lymph nodes, where the …
The Bridge I Must Walk Across (David Adès)
The Bridge I Must Walk Across Is this what it means to be lost? Stuck inside my skin — unable to shed it, unable to grow another — I am …