In Carbondale by Cliff Fell

Consider the glue
that holds all this together,
be it the cold light
of the diamond in the mine,
the gold in its seam
below the forest
or the shale oil reserves
of the Arctic Circle�
each in its way a party hat
that pays homage
to DJ culture
or signals the slow
corruption of thought.
But right from the start
let it be said
that to our knowledge
the art of the oil slick

Tika by Saradha Koirala

Goodbye takes the form of a
blessing.

My family press tika on our
foreheads

rupees into my palm.



Mountain-high through time
and air

the red paint dries, the
rice grains fall

leaving a trail that could
surely lead us home.



But sometimes you can't tell
what you've seen

until you close your eyes

and the imprint reveals



an inverted world of
darkened brights

and a pale sky

a halo

3rd Birthday Communal �Jazz� Poem: Scratch

1.
When looking back
choose your mirror well

2.
This memory, I know, is less like a recording
and more like Chinese whispers
but still I replay it

3.
Who scratched, who scratched,
who scratched this surface?
Shud-shudder-shuddering
lined rep-rep
repetition

4.
Is it you, Lily, hiding again
behind white linen corners of the laundry line?
Your oboe voice criss-crossing time

When we watched movies by Tim Upperton

I want to watch one bad movie


after another, and when I�ve seen them all
I will read all the bad books, the bad, rubbishy
books with their stock characters and ridiculous
plots,


and then I will listen to Europop�
no, country music, I�ll listen to Europop and country music


and the entire back-catalogue of Celine Dion while I eat
triple cheeseburgers, grease running down my chin.


I want