Submission #3 Stefanie Elrick


She moves in cycles,
Endless circles,
Right back round to the point where I came.
This place you started,
This person I’m always,
Thoughts blinked away bubble beyond the frame.

I look at you,
You look at she,
In this lazy sphere of energy,
We’re caught, bound tight,
Can’t move limbs free,
Under weight of twinned confusion, 
Is there room you and me?

I’m frightened that we might splinter and break,
When reality tinges the dream that we make,
Annihilation comes from the inside without,
You won’t even have felt her cut the love out.

Easy numbness,
Slips in seamless,
Waiting safe someplace inside.
Its been swelling slowly larger,
Since the gloss was lost from life.

So she slides back inside easy apathy.
Leans on you,
Be my crutch?
We’ll be happy!

(For a while) ‘Til the smiles start to sour,

And the monotone drone starts to lengthen each hour.

“It’s not you, you do know, you do know that it’s me?”
What more could I say,
What worse truth could there be?

So you’ll fade,
And I’ll change,
For a few weeks at least.
One lost little girl on her flying trapeze…..

Then we’ll fall for them all,
Strange landscapes of experience.
That deep itch behind the eyes,
Throbbing instincts pulls and whispers.

Do you think you could complete me?
Take me in and make me whole?
If I laid my heads between your palms,
Can you guess what I already know?”

Didn’t think so.
(I suppose we’re too much of a handful.)

So spin in cycles,
Super circles,
An endless state of being and not.
In us my worlds been doubled,
Yet parts of me were forgot.

Let me wrap myself around your warmth,
Don’t think, open up, let us in.
Let us love you, bathe you and bruise you,
Just don’t let it get under your skin.
You can feel me, heal me and kiss me,
An amenable agreement I’m sure for both sides.

But just so you know,
This is how it will go,
Happy Ever After won’t come if you try.


– 2006 –

Submission #2 Dex Hannon

Natural Rust

I am dented

Rusted boned and pleasant

My mind is still sleek and sharpened steel

My lips flow smooth and silken shapes

the body work is in need of some attention.

The engine is fuelled on dietary mistakes

The tyres are balding and the spare disappeared with the jack

I can still ride out the open road.

Ah, the beautiful places I’ve seen.

I still have a half tank of gas

To take me places I’ve never been.

If I could drive it all over again.

Would my roads be different?

I’ll never know.

When I’m taken to the junk yard,

I have only just one hope,

that I ran this dirty old engine,

at least twice around the clock.

Submission #1 Oz Hardwick


Eyes close: open. Electric signal

digits flick and flash, cycle

sequence spinning, spilling too soon

to wakefulness, cold morning, bright

sun, blink, almost awake

to catch the cues, the clues,

the codes to hold each second,

each minute, stop the domino

tipping, tripping time in lines

creasing skin, thinning to blue

blushed bloom, opal eyes

wide in spray from endless seas

of memory, surging, filling veins,

plumping vines bearing fruit,

ripe and heavy from rippling months

numbered in sundial shadows, sweeping

shapes glimpsed through fleeting fingers

drumming a deep pulse, drawing

years in circles. Time slips:

begins again.