New Poetry with Audio!
Donald Revell
Stephen Burt
Paul Hoover
Jonah Winter
Cathy Wagner
Reginald Shepherd
Nin Andrews
Sophia Kartsonis
Sandra Miller
Joshua Harmon
Devin Johnston
Chuck Zerby
Sara Henning
Ognjen Smiljanic
Lance Phillips
Peter Drake
Kathleen Byrne
Ernest Hilbert
Garth Greenwell
Marc McKee
Criticism
Brian Henry on Kinsella
Gabriel Welsch on Northrop
Gabriel Welsch on Smith
Cecily Iddings on Ruefle
Christopher McDermott on Wenderoth
Elena Knox’s first collection, Fat
Bad Plan, was published in 2002 by Vagabond Press. Her poems have appeared in SideWaLK and
Famous Reporter, been broadcast on The Red Room radio show, and are
forthcoming from Southerly and Divan. Her second collection, Flirt, has been
recently completed with the assistance of a Varuna Writers’ Centre mentorship
for emerging poets. She is working on a lyrical novel supported by an Australia
Council grant for emerging writers.
White ghost
not
blond at night
you’re
pure
movement
I’m
delighted
to
begin
this
and
in blindness
it’s
as if
we’ve
been asked
to
fold a battleship
out
of a bedsheet
§
this
little
warball
in my
hand’s
a toy
I’ll
throw all that is land
or
mine
into
you
§
so
with slogans of
too
much sea for the land
too
much land for the sea
a
voracity is born
a
hunger never
satisfied
a hothouse
kamikaze
splashing
out
we’ve
set the dogs on
slaver
and saliva
but
the prisoner
gets
away
§
I’m
climb
ing
rungs of
limbs
naked
through spiky
unnamed
things
and
thinking
of
nothing
much
less sense
but
grinning
ear
to ear in
awe
of
mouthwatering
ministrations
and
sunrise after sharp
spears
of dark
§
like
a war wound
with
fresh
red
lipstick
like
a dog
I
lick
tethered
to greed
like
a wound
like
a rough hound
I
need the stinging waters
of
a sea
someone
to
see
set settle me
§
because
in
beginning
you’re
a hard
hackled
shadow
hot
trench
of restlessness
at
the finish not
bristling
nor
yet blond again
guy
rope fling
ing
at black sea
or
softer
Pheremone tango
in
the tight shirt
new
feet beat
taboo
and hitherto
loyal
lungs have left
the
building
this
dame’s
not
glanced him so
a
low throw to broach
her
lingo goes
unnoticed
her
two friends
totem
bodyguards
her
person something
fiji
foreign
fresh
he
wants her
the
way
mafia
make room
for
bolognese and
heavyweights
with
luck she’ll crease
his
penis in brown
palms
to oil
his
wild sicilian ’fro
he
quails
and
almost fails
to
sense her swivel
in
a sultry
second,
evil eye
fixed
to defy fabric
Clinch
tree
stump
lovers
chiselled
into
fissures
in richly
stitched
sleeping-bags
only
enough
bones
for
the two of us
the
broken
earth
a salve
soothing
the burning
of
anything
without
your meaning
we’ve
come
to
rest in
new
plots, twisted
shedding
of separations
and of course lovable
and of course mortal
on
the lip
our
graves meet
lean
sideways
I
will too;
remember
this for
tree
stump lovers
sharing
arms
in
a worm’s
paradise
where I
melt
to your size
Sync
I’ve
tried to tell this
wild
rhino
to
dock before I’ve
yelled
at
it to point its toes and
buck
gracefully
across
the floor I’m
running
out
of rope
going
overboard
through a
watery
door
I’ve
seen you before
you’re
an
ocean liner fetching
friends
for cruises
in
your music whilst I
gasp
and
lash bat
low
over coaster
– listen –
first
shake your sweat off
like
a dog gone swimming
then
we’ll
get
at its heels
plunge
nip herd it
onto
this beach where I’d
swear
I’ve
had it
I’ve
had you, whatever –
before
