Waves

A poem reflecting on the fem­inist work at WIRE I’m writing a letter to fem­inism: a love letter, A letter of longing, a letter of hope, A letter of rage, a letter of solid­arity. There are echoes of us all through time, My...
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Know-it-all

On the ascen­sion of Scott Mor­rison to the Prime Min­is­ter­ship of Aus­tralia We’ve just swapped one psy­cho­path for another, If we’re honest. It’s just that one wore the mask better. In truth, the chal­lenge will always be that Father knows best, or thinks...
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Beginner genie

This is where you make your wishes after all, three sheets to the wind, thumb rub­bing up the brown glassy con­dens­a­tion, wistful, dreaming of Kris­tobal or Mira­bella or Carlos, in your bars and your nightclubs, sweat and grind, the neck of the...
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POETRY

2017 was born with a scream

2017 was born with a scream

1. 2017 was a good year for fear, a good year for screaming Not like some other good amer­ican years but it slid out of A year of celebrity death and tele­vised suf­fering that we were all Only too happy to see the back of And in...

Paper and dust

Paper and dust

Their shelves have always held mys­tery. Resist the urge to touch — cloth and paper and paint. I am close enough to breathe in Catullus and all his earthly urges, now sealed and almost eru­dite; So many spines here, leather and lust, dirt and dis­tress....

Numb in the whirlwind

Numb in the whirlwind

I stand, arms out­stretched as everything i know whirls around me Smashed into drift­wood and debris by the tor­nado of cir­cum­stance They say justice is blind but I can’t help feel she’s blind­folded right now, Held to ransom as random injustice rains...

Unspoken

Unspoken

Inspired by a Tumblr post I now can’t find… if you recog­nise the story, please con­tact me! There’s some­thing about scarlet cush­ions and 1940s jazz, Dark bars and tiny crystal gob­lets filled with cloying golden wine And a promise of desire...

Precious

Precious

These are moments that you treasure, just sit­ting of a sunset, Shoulder to shoulder as you remin­isce. And whether it’s Those memories of women’s decisions, the baby borne or the Journey halted, the intimacies and the viol­a­tions, or whether It’s gasping...

Stories

Beginner genie

Beginner genie

This is where you make your wishes after all, three sheets to the wind, thumb rub­bing up the brown glassy con­dens­a­tion, wistful, dreaming of Kris­tobal or Mira­bella or Carlos, in your bars and your nightclubs, sweat and grind, the neck of the bottle...

Time and love and magic on our side

Time and love and magic on our side

We may not win the battle, she says. And while there’s always fear, some­where down in the heart-sore depths of watching our chil­dren grow, there’s always fear that things can change in an eyeblink, that the wing-free light­ness of the trilling dan­cers of...

Place

Place

There used to be water in Cali­fornia; snow­melt rushing through rav­ines to coalesce laugh­ingly as lakes and lagoons and other summer indul­gences. That was long away and far ago, in some strange before time when the land wasn’t riven with cracks and the heat had...

The ravine

The ravine

Step off. Or not. It’s one of those decisions that hovers at your peri­pheral vision — are you ready? Wings unfurled at your back, that sen­sa­tion of almost-moistness lingering — will they hold? 

The trip to America…

In October, we went to the US on what Doug called the Tour de Harper. The timing was partly to make it to my cousin David’s wed­ding to the ever awe­some Rachel and partly to get in before Harper’s plane ticket actu­ally cost money. We ended up on nine planes in...

Politics

Waves

Waves

A poem reflecting on the fem­inist work at WIRE I’m writing a letter to fem­inism: a love letter, A letter of longing, a letter of hope, A letter of rage, a letter of solid­arity. There are echoes of us all through time, My fin­gers...

Know-it-all

On the ascen­sion of Scott Mor­rison to the Prime Min­is­ter­ship of Aus­tralia We’ve just swapped one psy­cho­path for another, If we’re honest. It’s just that one wore the mask better. In truth, the chal­lenge will always be that Father knows best, or thinks he...

2017 was born with a scream

2017 was born with a scream

1. 2017 was a good year for fear, a good year for screaming Not like some other good amer­ican years but it slid out of A year of celebrity death and tele­vised suf­fering that we were all Only too happy to see the back of And in...

Numb in the whirlwind

Numb in the whirlwind

I stand, arms out­stretched as everything i know whirls around me Smashed into drift­wood and debris by the tor­nado of cir­cum­stance They say justice is blind but I can’t help feel she’s blind­folded right now, Held to ransom as random injustice rains...

Raw

Raw

(With thanks and grat­itude to Robert Borden) 1. 2017 was a good year for fear, a good year for screaming Not like some other good Amer­ican years but it slid out of A year of celebrity death and tele­vised suf­fering that we were all Only too...