To avoid treading on a snake, I stepped on a land mine. Did this really happen, in my dream? No. Is it a fiction, then? Yes and no. The time I spend looking for socks is insignificant: lie, irony, or philosophy? Wombats shit candy. Joke – hallucination? This is in fact a truth claim. My poems: litanies of truth claims.

I am a Kennedy says Eileen, blue black eyes gleaming. The homeless are raised up, the lonely head for shelter in a theatre basement with 1000 women and children. We are a security council and I am your President. They will break the mould after me.

When iso’s over I’m buying a coleslaw handfuls of nectarines, vanilla pudding to keep the lockdown woes at bay, I’m kinda worried not rly because I’ve got the spicy cough you know, I’m young – no underlying conditions but my brother has spent the past week in emergency

I wake up, standing to a horizontal glare in eyes I can’t remember shutting on a platform at a station of a line that must be elsewhere Where the night chill pricks like daybreak a helium confusion at being alive and born clothed

We wake by still water to what sounds like a large pearl dropped from a great height, it breaks the surface tension with a resonant nasal tock more than a splash. A lake is an inland expanse of standing water. This one is nine hundred and sixty-three metres above sea level.

Sara and I attend the opening night for the NGV’s QUEER exhibition. We were not invited and we did not buy tickets – in fact we did not even know it was on until stumbling upon it after watching the new Batman movie at the HOYTS in Melbourne Central and deciding to walk home south along the Yarra.

Zelda D’Aprano held onto the chain with the devotion of a worker who sifted through the words of bosses to find that reason to obey, she held the chain with the ease of a woman holding a handbag of unfair payslips, she held the chain with the strength of her father’s will to survive the Nazis and the drive of her mother’s hope to share our burdens.

ABC News Exchange is inviting you to a scheduled Zoom meeting. / Time: Jan 6, 2022 03:00 PM Canberra, Melbourne, Sydney / Interviewer: Why are you boycotting Sydney Festival? / [redacted]

Been watching women in romantic comedies toss tiny handbags over their shoulders, laugh without smudging their gloss. They suck lollipops noiselessly, as if silence is true seduction.

You’re asleep in the next room. I watch Genet’s Un Chant d’amour. A prisoner is in love with the murderer in the next cell. He kisses the concrete between them. The guard is jealous.

the ratings icons have vanished no one cares yes maybe no mostly no --- how’s it going bin night bin night bang bang bring out the dead --- & the mouse plague – how’s that going in the barren paddocks wheat &endless glare

The delivery zone is empty but investors have no crisis of relevance and couldn’t care less — deliveries are taking place elsewhere and will continue until the cows come home — there’s metal-dust on the water vats, the hand-sanitiser dispenser is exhausted or ignored.

The wasp lies by the window as if to beg elegy or apology for the ease with which I smashed its wings. I pretend not to notice & the next day, there are two of them.

Pan Am Flight 816 radioed to Fa’a’ā International Airport in Papeete, Tahiti requesting emergency landing procedures due the Boeing 707-321B’s windshield sustaining a crack during its flight from Auckland. It made a routine landing.

It was 1980. I was writer-in-residence at a university. I had booked a meeting room for the first reading of a play. But three young men were dug in deep with each other. I became stiff and shrill. — 'Did you book this room? I booked this room!' —

A kingfisher swallowed a cane toad near Kakadu | A woman in south-east Queensland saw rainbow lorikeets fall from the sky | A flock of brolga fished for frogs in an algal bloom | Just outside Cairns, a bush-stone curlew bounced off the bonnet of a speeding ute | In Broome, a grey nomad pulled a blue-faced finch from the radiator of his 4WD