June/July 2010




walleah press



away from home


bowties or butterflies:
the sauce of your choice.

an umbrella collapses.
the chairs are inseparable.


this display a glass
bottomed gondola.

model train derailment
halfway into the mountain


like restless in ‘the
method of immersion’

la lingua madre
surfacing for breath.


bus stops pine needles carpet
the terra rossa tennis court.

imminent arrivals


grammatically the tutor tells me
you cannot enter the walls –

stick figure stuck
in a stone cell to illustrate.


poems of place.
souvenir this that

his own little
piece of vesuvius.


up/down some
(unsigned?) street in pistoia

reception deserts us returns.
digging deep for lost vocab.


but cinema centrale
settles it:

visiting mono-linguists
wilt in the provinces



not much now
to hang the gown on


most frequently
asked question?

what to feed the children
death or fairytales.


makes two of us out of a tower’s
skinny staircase

the renaissance
spills into the backyard.


radio guide
re-tells the tale

of the twins
history and hearsay


somewhere more specific
than piazza napoleone?

…hotel universo.
see you at two.


this winter air frigid
as a pen chained to the bank desk

handwriting flatlining
in fingerless gloves


still scrawls my “xmas
high-rise haiku”:

inflatable santas
hung from the balconies/with care.


(bit rich?) as benedict declares
the way we worship

obscene wealth
a modern sin.

finest rain
stencils awnings in the square

lavoro in corso
loose cobblestone vaguely cubist


thank you gesture
the eyes of the mime.

squeezed the accordion in.


almost a memory
that pillion rider’s

shirt-tail billow
ing into the past.


in your dreams!
a skybed absorbs local turbulence.

flying nervously in circles
above sydney suspense (viewed literally)

Chris Brown lives in Newcastle, Australia. His poetry has appeared in a number of online and print journals including, most recently, cordite, overland and The Age. He has work forthcoming with mascara poetry and foam:e.