I am the same age my mother was when she was diagnosed with schizophrenia. I am the same age my mother was the first time she tried to kill me. …
To Miscarry a Moon (Ojo Taiye)
ELEGY FOR CLAUDIA PATRICIA GOMEZ GONZALEZ* i- every poem i write is about the same grief: how ordinary it is to want the American dream. i don’t know what Gomez …
Within the Filipino Diasporic Cloud (Eileen R. Tabios)
From ‘PILIPINZ CLOUDYGENOUS’ (2018-2019): a Poetry and Visual Art Installation by Eileen R. Tabios You leave the land of your ancestors and your birth. In the 20th and 21st century, …
Afterburn (Kylie Hough)
Edited by Laura McPhee-Browne I lie on a queen mattress covered in red peonies in a darkened room, looking up at the still ceiling fan. I can make out three …
Normal, living, human beings (Kit Riley)
Edited by Amanda Tink Introduction We used to be held in bodies. Tiny electrical rhythms, the firing of nerves and neurons, contained us within the forms of our descendants. Most …
Leaving (Nathan Curnow)
The Leaving Poem pack it all up, my love we’ll go to that place beyond them let them sleep and forget about us leave the key in the spot, they’ll …
MAPPING A JOURNEY BETWEEN WORLDS: Ben Hession Reviews Flood Damages by Eunice Andrada
Edited by Robyn Cadwallader Eunice Andrada is one of many Filipino Australian poets who are together developing a distinctive, emerging presence in the national literary scene. The voices are diverse, …
The Dingo’s Noctuary (Judith Nangala Crispin)
Vision 2 (from The Dingo’s Noctuary) The Mongrels I have no memory of waking. An awareness slowly formed in the dark — scratching acacia, the strum of powerlines in wind. There …
Meanwhile, on the Train (khulud khamis)
July 2014 Raya stands by the open window, slowly brushing her long hair. It’s Thursday evening, and she watches people rushing about; she sees soldiers — children, really — hurrying with their …
Faust: and now, here I am what I am, and I don’t think I am something else (Juan Garrido Salgado)
Faust: and now, here I am what I am, and I don’t think I am something else I think I’m writing a poem about nothing, for no one. I do …