Articles & prose, poetry, reviews, interviews, comment, e-texts, news and views
Home page
Editorial details
Browse other issues
Subscribe
Guidelines for contributors
Contact details
Interviews
Currajah (news & notes)
DEREK MOTION politic 101.9 fm youre looking ashamed on the inside too now the backward thinking & assessing so obvious true, at first it was only an impulse & quite rational: howard backs down on legislation, members cross the floor as if to prove their bipedal nature you could be forgiven for jumping to such a state of hope / joy. change of government an obscure professor utters hes got the sly charm of an on course bookie & you flutter no-one foreseeing how close this sentiment brings you to happily donating money. banners in your mind already read: australia decides & on the cusp of a marginal election you will show your stance in the form of leaflets (imagine a rainy street desolate & half-lit) your personal philosophy now so addled & lonely it begins not to matter how the votes tally up (a forlorn living room seethes the air of abc the colours dankly true to the retro orange lampshade) you watch & you are in stages marked by the clock tired, expectant, jocular, then oblivious. it is a cycle you get used to.
DEREK MOTION
politic 101.9 fm youre looking ashamed on the inside too now the backward thinking & assessing so obvious true, at first it was only an impulse & quite rational: howard backs down on legislation, members cross the floor as if to prove their bipedal nature you could be forgiven for jumping to such a state of hope / joy. change of government an obscure professor utters hes got the sly charm of an on course bookie & you flutter no-one foreseeing how close this sentiment brings you to happily donating money. banners in your mind already read: australia decides & on the cusp of a marginal election you will show your stance in the form of leaflets (imagine a rainy street desolate & half-lit) your personal philosophy now so addled & lonely it begins not to matter how the votes tally up (a forlorn living room seethes the air of abc the colours dankly true to the retro orange lampshade) you watch & you are in stages marked by the clock tired, expectant, jocular, then oblivious. it is a cycle you get used to.