New Poetry with Audio!
Donald Revell
Stephen Burt
Paul Hoover
Jonah Winter
Cathy Wagner
Reginald Shepherd
Nin Andrews
Sophia Kartsonis
Sandra Miller
Joshua Harmon
Devin Johnston
Chuck Zerby
Sara Henning
Ognjen Smiljanic
Lance Phillips
Peter Drake
Kathleen Byrne
Ernest Hilbert
Garth Greenwell
Marc McKee
Criticism
Brian Henry on Kinsella
Gabriel Welsch on Northrop
Gabriel Welsch on Smith
Cecily Iddings on Ruefle
Christopher McDermott on Wenderoth
Nick Whittock’s poetry has appeared in past issues of Slope and
in Cordite.
damien martyn
it is better just to put it
in there and hold it in there
i can see where the world
should be looking
more than half closed
place yourself in here will
open up for you big you
a string of small characters
moving in minor ways
one or more of them
may be a sniper or sea
gull feeding on the strewn
pegs sucking on the pig
cutting up the face of a wave
whore the vision pulls
focus and i can
be forever i will not come
i will not
come yet you will not stop
scg
i cannot wait until tomorrow
wait until tomorrow
i cant bare you
to touch my face tickle my whiskers
my teeth explode in my dreams
tickle my teeth
explode in my dreams
i could fuck a bunch of people
at the top of acland st
a sniper all of a sudden is just there
a crater in the sorbonne
build a cricket pitch there play
cricket there shivering
all of a sudden feeling
better as i normally do i am not
going anywhere now i am not going
to
any place
darren hayes unsated
she howlin
bloody hard
blood ye s’howlin
she bloody arckin
smooth wanton’ it
she barely touchable fsure
fesure im fit man strong ye
meblood is prime
ich muss bireddy i can see
shireddy
sweet freak me
i feel like curling up curl
ing up would be fine it feels
nice
to curl up
braun
there is no fanta here
is the real world
i have a sensational arse
am supreme can you lick it
am a softcock man in a latinopop
land produce a land to clean
i will sweep the
floor always do
never rest no
sie
st a fact im supreme project
ile b bullet proofproof
this time lubricated
delipidatory technology
unstoppable there was a
mess slug
gut
matthew hayden
when moonlight crawls along the street
chasing away the summer heat
footsteps outside somewhere below
the world revolves i let it go
we build our church above this street
we practice love between these sheets
the candy sweetness scent of you
it bathes my skin im stained by you
and all i have to do is hold you
theres a racing in my heart
i am barely touching you
turn the lights down low
take it off
let me show my love for you
insatiable
turn me on never stop
wanna taste every drop
my love for you insatiable
the moonlight plays upon your skin
a kiss that lingers takes me in
i fall asleep inside of you there are no words
theres only truth
breathe in breathe out there is no sound
we move together up and down
we levitate our bodies sore
our feet dont even touch the floor
and nobody knows you like i do
the world doesn’t understand
but i grow stronger in your hands
turn the lights down low
take it off
let me show my love for you
insatiable
turn me on never stop
wanna taste every drop
my love for you insatiable
we never sleep
were always holdin hands
kissin for hours talkin
makin plans i feel like
a better man
just (being) in
the same room
we never sleep theres just[in]
so much to do too much to say
can’t close my eyes when im with you
insatiable the way im loving you
turn the lights down low
take it off
let me show my love for you
insatiable
turn me on never stop
wanna taste every drop
my love for you insatiable
when i look in your eyes
insatiable the way i make love with you
aud what can i do
insatiable for you
ricky ponting
mark taylor did not have the sense of shame
that stephen has steve
looks away when i piss in
front of him he fixes his eyes upon a point well
above my head tubby always used to
stare and smile raise his beer
steve looks away
displays
at least a little embarrassment for all
his brilliant command he retains
some discomfort
steve will not be
the commentator tubs is the
next richie ben
aud the
chatting and pissweak anecdotes tugga can
never be a part of
he guards his shame
in private he commits all manner of perverse acts that
no one will ever know of even want to know tubbsy is
an open book
he has no secrets he is only a man an
honest man paling away in the slipstream of his
successor
’s fabulous tales i will need to sing
my poetry to the stands
until
they reverberate
