Adelaide Literary Magazine

I AM A HILLWALKERBy David McVey  I climbed my first Munro in 1976 but I didn’t know, then, that it was a Munro.Every year, in September, there used to be a mass sponsored walk from Rowardennan, on...

COFFEE AND PRAYERSBy Caleb Dros I didn’t know it back then, not until I thought about it, that something as simple as coffee and prayers on those lazy Saturday mornings would end up meaning to...

BEAT ONA Meditation on Violence,Teaching, & Paper MakingBy Nika CavatIn this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they...

DESPITEPoems by Gideon Sinke      DespiteI had a string of loversunder whose coversI thought I could hide.I condemned myselfto romance and lovehard and soft placeslong and smiley facesand in you I could confide.With you I was...

GREEN MEDITATIONBy Changming Yuan   ThicketStanding straight against the frozen skyYour skeletons are the exquisite calligraphyOf the seasonYour name is writNot in waterBut with wind  VentifactingA fact of fictionA fiction of factCarved with the invisibleChisels of the...

TO A CELLAR SPIDERBy Elizabeth Vignali   Reflection in the Window at the RedlightHis transparent hands liftpockets of blanknessand set them alight, brightflames birthed in reflection.This methodical heft and liftand flick of the red Bic lighteris...

MARTYRDOM IN THE EASTBy George MooreMartyrdom in the EastThe more hateful was the cruelty, which spared not so tender an age, the greaterin truth was the power of faith which found evidence even in...

POEMSBy Patrick Hurley ***there is no port of entrywhat atlas charts thesesaturnine territories?ingress is a dangerous fictionradioactive particlesare ubiquitoustoxic energies fix our hopesbut only choice computes  ***these voices are not frenchand this is no paradisetry for...

MR. ÉTIENNE HEIFARABy Kimo Armitage Mr. Étienne Heifara is sad that he left Tahiti on bad terms with his siblingsNight is an old woman with a canepoking the sun to come out.Mosquitos fill my childhood...

LADY ON A LENSBy William C. Blome A BLUEBEARD BRIEF LAMENT Roses no sooner get centered in my fireplacethan they send out a fragrance of hesitation,some wispy girl a-stumbling down the staircaseas if it were a...