Poetry - Year V - Number 42 - November 2020

Goulburn A muddy river flanked by gums wanders through town past rope swings hanging from high branches, rippling around snags and sandbanks, flowing home Tingalpa The bush spread to the reservoir’s edge. Water stretched out of sight round the peninsula. Wind-blown waves chopped across...

bucket list the crackle of plastic as an elephant’s trunk unfurls, accepts a sugared bag; gentle eyes and huge eyelashes smile as it stuffs it into its mouth. it’s so stupid, it’s eating my bag! shouts the nasty kid. I...

Nixon Resigns At the skating rink teachers on patrol, the rumble, the smell of floor wax, popcorn. She rolls next to me and winks I think. We bump into each other and fall in my mind love in hers over that stupid boy. And the...

Creekside Why can’t every day be pancake morning?  Last night Mom made treaty with the monster under my bed. Front yard pine needles nest in my hair because I won’t give up on keeping tally of fireflies. Mouse...

THE CITY (Caracas) I. This other overcast morning I hear two snaps echo up the narrow streets It is time to greet the day II. Children in school uniforms adults in work clothes hurry down these narrow streets On a patch of grass near worn buildings A man...

M Charactered And in the glare Mu Cephei roils As if to dare armed craft to draw near Or to deter steel souls from rare risk Which is the high dream I Kalki chose So now I boost thrust...

REMEMBER WHEN THE CRUSADES WERE THE GOOD OLD DAYS? Was there lots of raping and pillaging during the Crusades? Or just the right amount? Was there too much, dare I say, greed involved like some aberrant cult addicted to Manifest Destiny? Have...

THE FIRST LOCKDOWN birdsong splashed mornings grass-shadowed fawns quail, rabbits and coyotes abound a brief reprieve, Brothers and Sisters Fool’s Gold how lonely we’ll be when you’re gone I read once that nothing is ever lost. Does Gaia hold you always in her heart—your spirit,...

The Cork Oak of Portugal Riding the bus down and along— Lisbon to Faro on the Algarve coast, passing through dry, hilly forests— from the distance of your seat, they seem to be the same burly oaks of California—many with...

Ms. Know-It-All She seemed to consider herself an expert after only donating one time prior, and from the look that she gave me, I definitely got the warning signal that it was beneath her needing to review the advance reading...