for Karen Your beauty cannot be translated, but I would fail not to try. It generates a weather no meteorology can describe. It is most like a flower, a flower with moods. An unstill life, in no need of arranging, it arranges itself. It is not fixed, so how can I fix it? It doesn’t … Continue reading
Richard James Allen was born in the New South Wales country town of Kempsey. He spent the first ten years of his life in Vietnam and Japan. Upon his return to Australia, he began writing diaries. Gradually the entries became less and less literal and more and more imaginative as he moved from recording to … Continue reading
Last Letter That night, your final night alive, I turned from your locked red door still holding your letter, a thunderbolt that could not earth itself. Shock remade my brains, and the prevalent devils of ill-love added to the huddle of riddles that failed to divulge their unhappy import— was that your plan? Dellarobbia, my … Continue reading
A pervasive hum, invasive lights, white gown swooping hairy legs, a skinny ghost whose nest-like-head buzzes with static and stinks of cigarettes; a woman afraid to be sent home convinced that death is imminent, and from a key locked room a wail ascends the air to crest the brutal surface of sedation. While I drink … Continue reading
Fifteen thousand years I have slumbered In my icy casket, a hoary Princess waiting Not to be kissed, but punctured By the pick of a prying scientist. My blood, dark as a fairy tale Leached insidiously into the Siberian snow, And my flesh flared red and fresh Enough to eat. My lower limbs devoured By … Continue reading
They used to be joyful the pictures of babies used to pertain to me. But today my belly is swollen with portent and I note with unease that my haruspex is a man. Female seers are reserved for life and I am an obedient bag of death, viscera spread on the gritty screen waiting to … Continue reading
Michele Seminara is a poet and yoga teacher from Sydney. She studied English Literature at The University of Sydney and then spent many years travelling, studying and teaching yoga and meditation, and raising her family. In the last few years she has returned to her writing and discovered that, much to her surprise, she is … Continue reading
It all started with an anniversary, and a quest to celebrate thirty years of union. Christina, an old friend of mine, started surfing the net for a special dining experience in Barcelona. On her expedition, she came across an underground restaurant, La Contrasenya. She contacted the owner and made a booking, but was told that … Continue reading
La Boqueria food market at Rambla in Barcelona is a feast, both for the eyes and the belly. I discovered this morning that all sorts of delights are served really early on, no need to wait for lunch to indulge in seafood, paella, and so much more. It was raining lightly this morning, and a … Continue reading
For Anne You are the dance I prayed for, my love, and I am the prayer That danced you free. I am the supper You earned, Beloved, dancing All of time down to its knees. You are The forest in my blood and the wildness In my woods, in my leaves. And … Continue reading
Enjoying summer to the full in Lebanon is all about the beach and the night life. As the sun sets in Beirut, the madness of its streets subsides and the city’s eccentricity moves across to the bars and the nightclubs. Beirut offers some of the hottest roof-top bars in the world, but other places offer some … Continue reading
So why is it when I wake beside this Cornish sea, my tongue Is as tired as it only gets to be, lost in deep, Prolonged and riotous discourse with thee? My sleep Has been as eloquent, it seems, as the breeze that trafficked my window all night, As busy as the sea at her … Continue reading
Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew. —Jack Gilbert, “Failing and Flying” Like some nocturnal Icarus, I dream too close to heaven— I fly too close to morning— and I wake in pieces. And so I woke this Wednesday, a child disarmed in sleep and felled By the gravity of the ancient light he dawns in. … Continue reading
“Enemies— Part of a world Nobody seemed able to explain But that had to be Put up with.” —Seamus Heaney, “A Herbal” Continue reading
Mark Tredinnick is a celebrated poet, nature writer, writing teacher, and essayist. He lives and writes along the Wingecarribee River, southwest of Sydney, and he travels widely in Europe and America as a poet and teacher. The winner in 2011 of the Montreal Poetry Prize and in 2012 of the Cardiff Poetry Prize, Mark is … Continue reading
A visit to a shoe repair shop in a nearby town followed by a couple of questions lead to a story experienced by the cobbler at the age of seventeen. After examining my shoe, he told me I could take a seat and he will mend it on the spot, sparing me another trip back. The … Continue reading
Time passes so slowly around here, everything seems to be weighed down by this heat. My feet are so lazy and my eyelids wish to indulge in another nap on the swing. I seem to blend in quite well with my hometown, its streets are much more quiet than usual and its souk’s usual hustle … Continue reading
Two halters of rope around your neck, and two bodies jammed hard against your sides, is all it takes to hold you while he slips his blade beneath your eye. You hear the wet slide and suck as he scoops the eye out. He does the other, they roll together in the dirt. Does it … Continue reading
Whenever I have made this dish for friends’ dinner parties, it always disappears in no time. What I love about it is that it goes really well with other dishes, but if you serve it with rice and fresh lemon wedges, it makes a great main dish. It is very easy and quick to prepare, … Continue reading
My father knew stone. He’d sit cross-legged at the hearth, felt cloth on knee, bent over with hammerstone, wooden punch, and bone tine, knapping at flint or chert, knapping it to knife point, sickle blade, arrowhead. I’d watch the stone give way beneath his deft blows: fine flakes splintering from face or rim. The curved … Continue reading
Poem and Dish 