EDITORIAL
Editorial #37 BOTTOM
It’s been over three years now that I’ve been writing these editorials, and this is my last one as Editor-in-Chief. This theme, BOTTOM, has prompted me to reflect on why we consider things to get worse as they get lower.
POETRY
Colonial Language
Macquarie could learn a thing or two / about stranger-fearing, this theft of breath / at times we most ache to be loud, / this blood-thick ghost we choke on / until the knocking subsides.
Under
Lithe little worm makes / his dirt routes / blind and / singing.
The Story of My Wound
And every time somebody dies in Gaza / it starts to bleed a little more / so as you can imagine I can’t / keep a shirt clean.
the lovers
i drew the lovers on a couch, set dining table running / blunt talons past your holy neck it gathers layers falling
We Wanted
It’s not a men’s club, / women’s club, sports club, / masonic club, exclusive club, / nightclub, swingers club / or workers club / it’s just a member’s club / because without them / it would only ever be / an architectural delight /
FICTION
The Last Physical Arts Festival
Her new ID card and lanyard. Her new business card—just one, to display on her desk. The rest were digital blocks loaded in her new smart watch, waiting to be doled out at networking events. There was also her industry-regulation brunette bangs—they’d matched her shade perfectly—and a gift of some…
River Weather
It started because we wanted to scare away snakes: muscly king browns, the rare red-belly black. Now it’s ritualistic: the pre-river dance.
NON-FICTION
People on Public Transport Essay
Their game-making strikes me as a beautiful and wry way for them to try and make sense of their surroundings together. I don’t know if that’s how they thought of it. They probably just thought it was fun and cool, which it also is. The game itself is lost now,…
