“April” [by Terence Winch]

I shun father and mother and wife and brother, when my genius calls me. I would write on the lintels of the door-post, Whim. I hope it is somewhat better than whim at last, but we cannot spend the day in explanation. Expect me not to show cause why I seek or why I exclude company….

Last Song   Mother! Where have you been? Your children are drinking beer and playing the piano. Every single thing you ever owned has long ago disappeared. We’re not even sure when exactly you were born or what ship you came here on. Sweet hope, show me the way out of this mess. I keep…

It’s a Wonderful Life           After the national fanfare died down, the quintuplets grew up protected from further exploitation in the safety and privacy that state funds and public donations ensured.  But, inevitably, they had to enter the real world.  On their eighteenth birthday they went to work as tellers in the…

Noah, you lived in the wrong time, died too quickly, looked at your world with different eyes, taught me the value of getting to know a person, even if I disagreed with them. The post Noah | Alan Inman appeared first on Best Poetry. Go to Source Author: Best Poetry Online

Michael Farrell is one of Australian poetry’s great experimenters. Over his eight collections to date he has pushed at the limits of form, structure, syntax and more to interrogate, and indeed reshape, what “Australian poetry” actually means, particularly in its post-colonial paradigm. His seminal critical work Writing Australian Unsettlement: Modes of Poetic Invention 1796 –…

There is no good way to fall out of bed except to not fall at all. The first time was when I stayed over and woke up in a tumble of sheets, writhing in a cocoon on the floor, tearful and unsure of where I was. I remember figures in the dark, crying softly like…