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Month: April 2017

from Everything I Need Is Thrown Out #2

Posted on 30/04/201730/04/2017 by Dean English

2 I haven’t put them in Producers’ letterboxes for recording studios in times of lyrical shortage. I did stencil some on placards of low tide sand, leaving behind the business card of the lonely calling love of Poetry. Left alone they aren’t even printed— Schrödinger’s poems in a laptop. 3 When I take my Hobo…

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Everything I Need Is Thrown Out

Posted on 30/04/201714/07/2018 by Dean English

1 Each time I buy a new didgeridoo I like to wander for a month and find out what it can do, but this time, when the stick had been delivered by courier, bubble-wrapped to my doorstep, leaning in the corner by the daffodils, I left it at home and rode trains with manuscripts calligraphic…

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flower shop

Posted on 29/04/201702/08/2018 by peterlebaige

 flower shop to Naran and her daughter that flower shop at that corner of the avenue flowers in coloured buckets of water stood before dirty glass windows not a shop for exclusive shoppers but anyone simply in that dusty town who needed flowers for whatever purpose flowers had, in night-clubs gifted across beer-spilt tables or…

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A sad farewell

Posted on 29/04/2017 by Lesly Frances Finn

I watched alone by sunlit edge of pond and meadow touching hands those flirting leaves that twitched and swirled gold dessication incomplete while water ruffling to shore beneath bowed willows’ trailing arms pushed tender shards of russet brown to curl contentedly in reeds no harsh sounds to be heard that day for everything seemed hushed…

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What’s worse, being dead or dying?

Posted on 27/04/2017 by Mark Prisco

Pine cone; you; red shoes, grass/New moon/pale   sky, so cool  – evening. Think:   if you go does Day/ Night also? disappear   as if it never was even here.   Hold on,

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WE

Posted on 27/04/2017 by Lesly Frances Finn

these days there is a shadow on my heart a stone so weighty breathing is suppressed such sadness from this time we’ve been apart and memories of times when we were blessed no sleep while eyes keep searching in the night your warmth no longer felt here at my side without your arms to hold…

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from Nowhere/ Always/ Everywhere #3

Posted on 27/04/201727/04/2017 by Dean English

In the waiting room at the hospital a young man, with a topknot and brown lakes for eyes, comforts, in a front harness his four week old baby. And I wonder how we did it, the lady and I— by living apart? Letting birds fly? Once a week, flock, once a week, sky? Meaning-phoenicians, weeks…

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Letting Go

Posted on 26/04/201727/04/2017 by Lesly Frances Finn

This cold, cold earth last resting place I heard your voice you kissed my face then all was gone without a trace in cold, cold earth This hard, hard ground no need for sight for those who lie in this dark night not to see again the sun, the light in hard, hard ground Yet…

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Purple Glow

Posted on 25/04/2017 by gizzyblue

Man sleeps Dog sleeps Cat sleeps Snoring sounds Whilst washing swishes Dishes sit soaking in the sink I sit and think Cars flash by Lights flash in the night sky I sip my wine Contemplating… Meditating… Soul finally at rest Comfortable in my nest… A purple glow in my heart Resonating to the sleeping souls…

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deep end

Posted on 24/04/201724/04/2017 by peterlebaige

deep end to ‘Auntie’ Wanda Kiel-Rapana out Tolaga Bay way my auntie’s hearth and homestead earth there’s a wharf you can walk out beyond the breakers, a wharf to take you over the line where the tide changes colour as the sea deepens and the swell lengthens, a wharf you might think is a fiddle…

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Poetry – Memo to self

Posted on 23/04/201727/04/2017 by Lesly Frances Finn

a rhymer’s style is one that’s neat following form and counting feet free-versers claim their way is better no need to follow to the letter some poems only seem to ramble endless screeds all in a tangle esoteric styles depress me grandiloquence just don’t impress me so what’s the best thing I can do (the…

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In Passing

Posted on 23/04/201727/04/2017 by Lesly Frances Finn

What became of whats-her-name the one who hung around last fall? Or was it spring, I can’t recall? Seemed quite sad and melancholic. We thought she might be alcoholic. Remember her? She was with us at your brothers ‘do’ And we talked of how our nails grew? Well, WE talked, she listened. Or seemed to….

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