Category: Issue Three

  • Manhood

    Manhood

    By Ron Barton   manhood ˈmanhʊd/ noun

  • Superfluent

    Superfluent

    By Ron Barton   I am well versed in being an unnecessary extra. I speak third wheel

  • Poppadums in a Garden

    Poppadums in a Garden

    By Allan Lake   On the footpath beside the pond in the idyllic botanical garden, poppadums fallen from heaven or thrown for the hell of it  – likely source the small Indian cafe nearby.

  • Memories

    Memories

    By Brendan Leigh The bike bucked as it went over the little bump in the driveway, and I bucked with it. The drain pump would have to be cleaned again this weekend, the refuse that builds up over time been forced out by sheer force of water. Dad had told me that water always followed…

  • Melbourne, mid-winter

    Melbourne, mid-winter

    By Allan Lake   My chilly 50’s apartment: beyond the pane of glass winter-lush garden, sun half trying.

  • Morning

    Morning

    By Kim Waters   The bed slopes towards morning and I hang on to the fringes of a dream, waiting for the day to unfurl like a leaf on the ground.

  • Fear

    Fear

    By Bill Cotter   On the cliff edge, Dawn’s grey ghosts, the steely eyed gulls, Are testing their wings.

  • Ballroom Echoes

    Ballroom Echoes

    By Robert James Conlon   We only dance in our memories now The song is forgotten the melody lost In a ghost of movements.   Image by: Michael D Beckwith

  • The Lines We Make

    By Robert James Conlon      

  • Wasted

    Wasted

    By Lyn Chatham   At four am Seb cooks dinner in his minimalist mock kitchen.

  • The Sorrows of Soggy Sam Sulfur

    The Sorrows of Soggy Sam Sulfur

    By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh   Rats stuck in burning trees, Poisoned vultures in the air vent. You still think of me as your good Sheppard, Even though I’m hell-sent.

  • Gobble Gobble (The Wild Turkey Calls)

    Gobble Gobble (The Wild Turkey Calls)

    By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh   I sit almost naked to the world, Towel hanging loosely to my loins. Dead muses acting as my butcher and to the bottle, my hand rejoins.