by phoenix | Jun 24, 2013 | Poetry
I am writing lost love letters to ampersands, my favourite — with its curlicues in arcane typefaces, it peeks out at me from designer invitations & grungy restaurant names & I play seek. I invent reasons to unfurl my ampersands & sneak our way into...
by phoenix | Nov 11, 2012 | Poetry
AND here i am again sitting in a seat in the sky rocky, knocked against the seatbelt, thinking how peaceful and my three-and-a-half year old waiting at the gate, thinking not ready to go, not this time, as we glide down and i see your matchbox cars wending through...
by phoenix | Jun 30, 2012 | Poetry
my clothes don’t match today such a simple thing to turn confident strides into frumpy shrinking such a long way from flowing ochre silks or scarlet coats; my mind hunches in concert, narrowed, pinched, as if the scope of thought permitted directly correlates to...
by phoenix | Aug 30, 2011 | Poetry
For Brian Widdows, Jaime’s daughter Kaya and Ceredwyn and Keith’s cousin There is an infinite sadness in certain acts that cannot be escaped and tonight I grapple with the trifecta: A murder, a suicide, the death of a baby moments before it entered the...
by phoenix | Jun 9, 2011 | Poetry
When we were young we watched incandescent flickering images of people rising like a sea from train stations, koyaanisqatsi in the Valhalla cinema on Glebe Point Road late at night and we swore we would never become one of these faceless creatures on escalators, on...
by phoenix | Aug 15, 2010 | Poetry
My sister unknowingly let me in on a secret today. In our family, there are no diminutive nicknames of affection for grandparents and great-grandparents, merely a rollcall of patronyms: Grandma Bersten, Grandma Levine, Grandma...
