We Walk
by Agi Dobson We walk in bright early- morning sun last night’s argument still in our mouths hoping sunshine will absolve. We walk. A light breeze caresses. We do not speak. Surreptitiously I watch you take breath, my mind numb.…
Baw Baw Arts Alliance
supporting local Artists
Baw Baw Arts Alliance
supporting local Artists
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Hazel Hall
Tick Tock a tanka string a little girl with dandelion clock blows away strong parachutes that need enormous puffs her smile hovers in delight tick tock will there will always be more seeds to blow away? one moment — let…
Pat Saunders
damp crumpled body in a dark dry corner – as rats rustle bolts driven shut carriage rolling
Tuyet Van Do
flares zooming brighten the sky bodies of women and children flying through the air Gaza, Middle East collecting eggs in the coop another chicken on the ground lifeless
Sundays with you
by Rachel Skellett Sundays with you, where our roots start to grow, we wander in awe, as we venture, investigate and reflect on the place we now call home. The artistry of the season they call Kambarang radiating into view, golden-orange, honeyed…
I guess the placentas of the floodplain will remain
by Kate Olivieri My neighbour told me Someone cried to their case manager My kids’ placentas are buried in the yard Will you compensate me for that my heart dropped so is my son’s the government is buying our house…
J F Garrow
J F Garrow was born and raised in England, taking degrees in Philosophy and Literature. Garrow now lives in Gippsland with partner and children, and teaches Ethics and Civics. His practice plays with the boundaries between prose and verse and, in…
Vanessa Proctor
morning light a wash of seaweed tangled along the shoreline a pair of child’s goggles reflecting the sky hailstones turning the garden white among the shattered pots my children marvel at the ice in their warm hands akatombo song takes…
Aurora’s Boring Content
by ALFREED FANDANGLE Awe stars’ verses, bored as Aurora gathering rainbows at the dawn of local time. Unsavable daylight can’t power you through the night. Like some kind of magic wand in valley, no secret Malley bull is really fowl.…
night walk at the prom
by Celeste Brittain night falls on the riverside board walk reflected in water a cathedral of stars deep, luminous glistening out of reach a hum like an engine – water crashes against rocks we shine torches on seaweed, and walk…