1 Music Word Art Catalogue Creative Hermes Issue 112 2018 2

3 reading this publication. publication. this reading orAboriginal Torres people Islander Strait other any to acknowledgement this extend and present, and past both Elders Aboriginal the to respects our pay We sold. or bought, up, given ceded, never was peoples these to belonging land the that recognises USU The located. are we which on land the of owners traditional the as Nation Eora the of people Gadigal the of SydneyThe Union University acknowledges student work Word Art, in and Musicand the USU from Showcasing the best Creative Awards

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6 ISSN 0816-116X ISSN Creative Awards. USU the through submitted Music and Word Art, in work student best the showcases and editors student by annually produced is Hermes 1886, in Founded Catalogue. Creative Hermes publish to proud is Union Sydney of University The Published by the University of Sydney Union Union Sydney of University the by Published Issue 112 MUSIC MUSIC 2018

ART ART Katrina Oxborough Design Cai Rhea Erin McFadyen Editors

7 catalogue, the through your journey on wishes best our With too. be will it reading that We hope apleasure. been has catalogue together. Hermes in bringing creative this Working on support invaluable their for at Verge Gallery partners our and Awards, Creative the USU, the year.this at team the We’d but like only contributors, our not tothank body student the from coming work good much so ajoy tosee It’s been at USYD. classroom the of out and in experience our of point the tobe largely – seems experimentation risk-taking, imaginative of of thinking, critical –of sensibility this with engagement and of and creativity. The celebration criticality of joy in sense common their is think, we catalogue, unified a form to wide-ranging cohere works as Business, these Law. makes and What STEM, as fields thinkers from and makers bytalented those pieces these side along- toplace able is Equally, catalogue this we SCA. hope the from works of-the-minute conceptually from Conservatorium astute, and students compositions Writing program, Creative of Masters in the students from poetry and fiction we have short excellent course, Of Engineering. Mechanical to Marketing toAgriculture, Architecture –from disciplines all from students of invention and ingenuity the but avocation, is creativity whom for students only of not work the toshowcase aim our at Hermes It’s always been backgrounds. academic and creative in contributors’ our diversity to the we think, pinned, be can catalogue year’s in this practice of diversity The music. and word art, of categories three all encapsulating and going again themeless, –byonce encourages Hermes that license artistic of freedom tothe atestament is received submissions of variety The surveillance. and technology of nature very the on ruminated and dynamics, gender critiqued lands, post-apocalyptic have –who constructed contributors years’ this of imaginations by the have We inspired been different. no is year This in 1886. appeared edition first the since metamorphised evolved and has Hermes art, of works Hermes Editors 2018 Editors Hermes Erin and Rhea W brilliant and diverse minds at the University of Sydney. of Like all University at the minds diverse and brilliant bythe toyou brought catalogue acreative toHermes, elcome

9 10 Art Music Word 10 –31

82 –97

32 –81 32 –

44. 48. 49. 20. 30. 28. 29. 26. 36. 22. 23. 35. 14. 18. 16. 19. 12. 31. 13. 17.

- - Y - #2 Scene - a from Wanderer Snapshots Interlinked -Dustin Jefferys line the On - Leak Black Lee Won Michelle Hee - Bineyo aCoral with Girl Joe, 'E', and Me. - Me. 'E', and Joe, - MEDUSA FOR REQUIEM - Last for Best The Save - Spaces In/Different Over Scrutiny Surveillance - Air for Air - familiar partially half different, Moon- - Daddle Diddle Oceanus - Prey - Prey BEEP// - - Recovery The 3 Shababa Salim Shababa Gillian Saha Tanushri LLOW SUN BAY - RUN SUN LLOW Georgia Tan Georgia Kim Nguyen Kim

Alisha Brown Alisha Kayrooz Katerina Mehigan Katerina Laura Moore Laura - - Antony Youssef Antony Elise Gibson-Long Elise Jeff Chiang Jeff Angelique Hall Angelique Alexandra Jonscher Alexandra Angus MacGregor MacGregor Angus Rosie Eliza Thomas Thomas Eliza Rosie Michelle Dang Michelle Gillian Kayrooz Gillian Robin M. Eames Eames M. Robin

94. 64. 84. 90. 60. 88. 86. 69. 89. 92. 62. 95. 93. 56. 78. 72. 76. 97. 87. 51. 51.

ROBIN -Stranger - Social So - Puissance La - Reflections - Lost - Direction Same the in Walking - By Passing Were Angels the While - That Like Me Like WonderLittle - Laura Dee - Last Eight Number - Turing Me Complete - world the not are we - Sky Empty Suspension - Yet - Done Not You Are Ezzes Benjamin - Valley aNarrow in Song Anxious - Water Of A Handful - Breakfast Canine A Very Henry Lin -Henry Loneliness Kazunari Benson Kazunari Lachlan Mitchell Lachlan Chung Alvin Flux Den Van Whitney Sam Parker Sam - - Ruby J J Ruby Oscar Saran Oscar Chelsea Stutchbury Chelsea James Holloway James Coco Huang Coco Gabriela Bourke Gabriela Lara Goodridge Goodridge Lara Patmore, Alana

Katrina Kemp Katrina Coco Huang Coco Kathyrn Lyster Kathyrn Donnalyn Xu Donnalyn

Edward Furst Edward

11 Michelle Dang / Youssef /Gillian Kayrooz / Rosie Thomas / Eliza Moore /KimNguyen /Tanushri /Antony Saha Jefferys / Laura Jeff Chiang / Salim/ Shababa Katerina Mehigan /Alexandra Jonscher /Dustin Won Hee Art / Gibson-Long /Elise Michelle Lee ART ART

13 15 Art

Elise Gibson-Long Black LeakBlack

Hee Won Michelle Lee Girl with a CoralGirl Bineyo

14 Katerina Mehigan Oceanus 19 Art

Alexandra Jonscher Dustin Jefferys Diddle Daddle On The Line 21 Art Shababa Salim Shababa Snapshots from a Wanderer from Snapshots Jeff Chiang Interlinked

20 22 Scene #2Scene Moore Laura

23 24 Kim Nguyen Moon half different, partially familiar

Tanushri Saha Art

25 25 27 Art

Tanushri Saha half different, partially familiar 28 Air for Air Antony Youssef Antony

their hands. with orchestra electronic an conduct to anyone allows and musicality, innate of idea the thatinstallation challenges interactive an is Air for Air

Art 29 30 Y3LLOW SUN BAY RUN Gillian Kayrooz Gillian walking really slow in front of you. you. of front in slow really walking and path whole the up taking are people of lots where run, a bay of those to alike more are they however amarathon, of that to dissimilar aren’t that hurdles and frustrations holds work video This Surveillance Over Scrutiny Gillian Kayrooz Gillian

daily life. life. daily ofsurveillance contemporary constant the on commenting overheard in the public sphere, verbatim conversations of acollation is video This

Art 31 Rosie Eliza Thomas Michelle Dang In/Different Spaces Save The Best For Last Katrina Kemp LysterKathryn /Whitney Van Flux/ Den Donnalyn Xu /Gabriela Bourke /James Holloway / Edward Huang / /Benjamin Ezzes Furst /Coco Angelique Hall /Alisha Brown Tan /Georgia / Word Robin /AngusMacGregor / Eames M. WORD WORD

35 36 Robin M. Eames MEDUSA FOR REQUIEM

entombed, ill omen to future foe. future to omen ill entombed, killer gilded the pupils, nacreous your in forever fixed reflection own his shield, burnished his to head your affixing roots, hissing its by skull your seizes he as ash to turns corpse your of husk the realm mortal the in you Behind to you and your serpentine kin. under already extends the earth over everything kingship whose and equally all accepts who god for the rivers of the dark-haired but Tartaros of hell cold the for not cave, the departs shade own your as deepening shadows the dark and light and blood of blur dulling, brilliance falters, vision your as dims He heavens. the of like burdened Atlas with the disc aloft held shield ichor. Mirrored blue-black own your of splashes by interrupted blood of line red long one bronze, and leather all firmly, planted feet lithe, young, him of shape The dying. are you time entire the him on fixed are alien eyes, gold and slit-pupilled, Your discourtesy. same the him give not do You reflection. your at only looking existence, your of anathema the for but himself for not shame, or form, your of with disgust at the monstrosity perhaps tinged shyness, from if as alittle aside turned is gaze his neck long your upon falls sword the When down. him strike will unprotected glance at your body your murderer, that one fearful you, at directly look not does He

Word 37 39 Word memory. place has Beyond the the Beyond clamour, this clamour, by then they have taken a chunk out of you. his thigh, fucker bled everywhere, and the work. a few Takes hits to kill the fuckers, and the Deckie next to me, who I have taken he had gone around a couple of times and by a site fence. Cookie pushed it aside and Deckie’s loving the sound of his own voice so Sounded alright, maybe a bit predictable. used to keep a baseball bat handy. Doesn’t I shift my body surreptitiously so that never listened.’ never much he would probably be oblivious anyway. He hadn’t seen anyone watching the school, Manila. Just in case. in Just Manila. It was a derelict primary school. Outside was Captain had to stitch him him he up. Told should a used an axe or something, but he This guy got a lump as big as my fist out of usually easy to spot, he hadn’t clocked any. an unreasonable dislike to, can’t see him. slipped He under. had come alone, like they said. In his coat pocket he felt the weight at 6am on a winter's morning in Freemantle. checked the cars. Undercover cops were of the 9mm automatic he had picked up in a muddy building site, the school fenced off ‘Had a guy on board who was pretty new, he The cars out front were empty, nobody around THE GUY IN THE OVERCOAT OVERCOAT THE GUY IN THE JOE IS NAME HIS SAYS HE'S I CAN TELL LYNCH. WAY, DEEP A BONE IN SAD HIM JOLLY TO I TRY AND ALONG... Joe takes a long pull on one of the longnecks.

blinding, bright day on Sydney beauty, and the smell of money. Harbour, and I’m thinking about

A feels right, like a jacket made to fit. from my Pluto Pup and giving a few random beers at the Marly. I read the first few lines harbourside in relief. On bright days, the light been out to sea before and take out ‘em past in Newtown after late a Thai meal, or a few intensity of wealth on display can oppress the start of the Sydney to Hobart Race, the to them. I’m a mere passenger, a temporary too, so that’s funny. We pass by a big navy the heads. If the sea is running any sort of you. On days when the weather is thick it visitor. volume right next to me, but I don’t register From the deck of a boat in Sydney you see the Lynch. I can tell sad he’s in a bone deep way, people. ever You tried the Whale Watching? man in a long overcoat sitting beside me. I poor fucker has to clean it up?’ ship, slabs of steel towering over us like a swell it turns into a spewcruise. And what grey sided whale. The middle aged one says. ‘There’s plenty They get all these tourists who have never never these tourists have who all get They There’s a disappointed looking middle-aged middle-aged looking disappointed a There’s The guy in the overcoat says his name is Joe and I try to jolly him along, offering him a bite over his shoulder. his over one pick you’d out of the stacks at Gould’s on the water can blind you. On busy days like of work on the harbour if you know the right can seethe screw tops of long-neck bottles of beer peeping out of each pocket. Two deckhands are having a conversation at high opinions on the AFL. Likes poetry, which I do

Joe is reading a grubby paperback book, like Joe,’, and ‘E Me. Angus MacGregorAngus *Please be aware the following content referencescontent suicide. following the aware be *Please

38 41 Word later. I never seen him come back for another trip. from one of the Moldovan beauties behind the brimming with possibility. There are weary business people, on a homeward run from work. him up, right? got He’s a couple of miles ofnets it was an e-book. Dunno.’ there are tourists andsurfers, young parents with the bridge, until we got back to Cairns three days the bollard and pushing out the ramp. E. and I are thousand days of February sun. Part of it has been work. A group of desultory fishermen in board wharf. too bright and the volume is stuck too high. We all of us belong to this moment,in the warm air first off, and I watch her beautifully tailored suit first contact. He might have written the book though. Or maybe Deckies swing into action, throwing a rope over has place memory. this clamour, the Beyond I walk past Doyle’s restaurant, but I don’t want to pissed off that he tied him to the deck rail outside recede onto dry land, like a hollow promise of perfection. up turned are everywhere, colours people the and pitiless silence ofthe Pacific Ocean, where sailing Our ferry docks at Watsons Bay wharf, and our On the other side of this headland, is the vast strollers, schoolkids. slabs of weathered timber bleached with a shorts and Roosters gear smoke Dunny Blues ships once set course to Valparaiso or Cape sit alone, and I consider grabbing a prawn burger The gangplank shudders as we step off together. The wharf at Watsons Bay has old bones, huge Town, Utrecht or Aberdeen. Before all that, the and dying sun. Sydney Harbourside, caught in time. an ageing romantic actor that has had cosmetic among the fish guts at the seaward end of the out the back. Nightmare. Had to cut a whole load of net free, cost us a few grand. Skipper was so done up recently but it looks a little artificial, like counter at the side window. It seems like there are Around me there are optimistic young travellers, Aboriginal Eora people fished and hunted before ‘So, the Captain heaves to in big a sea, and picks I REALLY WISH THIS THIS WISH I REALLY GUY SHUT WOULD ME OF PART BUT UP, HIS OF AWE IN IS COMPLETE DISREGARD AUDIENCE ANY OF SURFIE HIS BESIDES ON FERRY. THE MATE . She’s thinking about life. then She’d have them killed. fuck you up, you know, take a bite out of have drugs and that. Got a .38 I bought in her life. She drives a Porsche Cayenne, and husband Greg. Greg came out last year and has their Moodle Pixie himself, but the stupid fucker jumped before you go out there. There was this bloke, think he was a journo or something, head off.’ its thrashing around and could seriously seriously could and its around thrashing this guy’s just puking up, puking up, he wants to go home. He wants to die. So, I with him. It’s just me, E. Pennergast, and the water and the air is full of possibility, you know he was doing it for ‘research’. you or spear you. So, what you do is you Sydney Harbour. The sun is glittering on Indonesia. Sometimes you know, you will will you know, you Sometimes Indonesia. I look up and Joe seems to have I really wish this guy would shut up, but moved to a flat in Newtown, but she still part of me is in awe of his complete mate on the ferry. pin to ‘em the deck with each foot on one Cops always search us ‘cos they think we get a shark, or a marlin come on deck, and are hairline cracks appearing all through cracks all appearing hairline are and it’s blowing a bit of a Southerly, and enlisting a private eye to help her track down whoever stole the myth of her own owns a big house in Watsons Bay with her don’t know if he was really trying to top overboard.’ book disappeared his taking somewhere, disregardof any audience besides his surfie of their fins and then you blow the fucker’s Anyway, four days out on a fishing trawler ‘Yeah, we’ve got a bad reputation I suppose. ‘You want to be careful picking your skipper

way. I smile I way.

hammering the glass ceiling so hard, there bare. If walking is a way of organising the headlands of Sydney in space, then seeing it from a boat is to set those stories in the to read Joe’s book. She pulls out some the shimmering light. Walking around around Walking light. shimmering the the headlands in Sydney youget one turned inside out, all its secrets laid then the lights went out. the man on the bridge of the nose, and the grip loosened enough for him to spin looming above him. ‘You are going to be views in Sydney. Property developers and E. Pennergast.E. She made Senior Partner last She’s year. I speculate about the life of E. Pennergast. unending grip of the sea. Like an antique from behind, pinning him by the throat. the by him pinning behind, from fell to the ground, losing his grip on the fuck-with-me-I’m-a-lawyer ruby in an old clasp broach. media moguls. Glass palaces sparkle in perspective. From a boat it’s like a pocket very sorry you aren’t dead, And fucker.’ It was then he felt strong arms grab him sits next to me and Joe. She notices he’s slightly. She’s pretty, in a kind of Don’t- The money slaps you in the face, crystal and nod, and then go back to pretending and sandstone and steel with the best pinch bar hit him on the head, and Cookie case notes and I see her name at the top: drinking from a longneck and edges away corporate lawyers. Bent politicians and A carefully dressed business woman Cookie threw his head back and caught around and put a couple of slugs into his assailants’ chest. Another Islander with a gun. As consciousness faded he saw Lee’s face

40

42 Word

43 43 45 Word

for him and a Chancer for me. John Keats, La Belle Dame sans Merci (1819). 1 looks at me blankly. ‘You know, of the book hungry seagulls. I steer Joe over and we turns. the summer afternoon. Sydney moves on on afternoon. moves Sydney summer the watching the milky way spin in the night sky. with Cookie, and the Freemantle drug thing?’ well be staring out over the endless ocean. What has gone out of view will come again. We are the hub around which everything He looks back at me with eyes that might as I nod, and we sit in silence together in Fifty Lashes sit down. They serve pints, and I order a 150 around us, as if we arelaying on our backs on the wooden deck of a sailing ship and

‘What happens in the end?’I ask him. He ‘It’s not finished yet, mate.’ 1 ’ land after a long voyage. Barefoot in the lush grass, his hair bleached blond by the face, and arms spread wide. Her briefcase from an opportunisticfrom an Egret, some and him, and I notice got he’s tears running but he just shakes his head, muttering ‘La him up and whirls him around before hugging him tightly to her. is thrown on the ground next A child to her. to himself. Awkwardly, I ask him if he is ok, together back onto the path that leads to the houses on the cliff. trench coat of Joe Lynch sitting beneath the grass behind him. His mother scoops the earth. the through the thick glossy leaves of the towering Moreton Bay figs, as old as the that looks out over the It’s bay. empty apart Walking through the park, the sun hammers harvest's done. yards around before plunging hungrily into He smiled sadly. ‘The sedge has withered Sydney summer, his hat lays forgotten in She looks down into his face, and together He has been eating chocolate ice cream, I reach over and take his arm. ‘Cheer up, old E. Pennergastis waiting on the grass up from the lake, and no birds sing...’ mother and son are beautiful and complete. polo shirt. He smiles and pecks her on the Belle Dame sans Merci.’ Over on the park bench I can see the brown son. ‘The squirrel’s granary is full, and the stroller, and he is in civvies, in shorts and a staggers towards her like a sailor ondry Their ridged roots curve crenelated for There’s a pub on the corner with a table and it’s now all over her suit, but she ahead of me, with an expectant smile on her one of the trees. I go and sit down next to down the side of his face as he cries silently doesn’t seem to mind. Her bloke has the cheek, picking up her briefcase as they walk of two or three, giggling and shrieking, colony, planted by the British invaders. ‘Keats eh? Sounds like chick trouble, mate.’

44 46 The RecoveryThe Angelique Hall shooting weapons of mass destruction up so so up destruction mass of weapons shooting men rocket the loose, broke hell that power ultimate took man faced fat that after long not was It on. carrying by can, it way only the in rebuilding war and devastation by ravaged aworld recovery, the are We society. our of repair the in assist to out heading workers of legions the join to world the into down stepping to, seem always they like started had morning My shoes. clean perfectly wearing been had me past pushed who Enhanced the that know Ido but know, not Ido strong or weak is that whether different, me make heel the in cracking and toe the across scuffs the though, same the quite not are boots My steel. different realities enclosed in leather and entities, different by left footprints identical all entered; never Ihave buildings and been never have I places to course off veering changing, ever is trail the back glancing and dust, settled the in footprints uniform leave boots heavy My adustbowl. but nothing been always has park sacred this though as T “ - Frank Herbert - Frank mind human a counterfeit to Thou shalt amachine not make 

and yet people continue strolling, strolling, continue people yet and ground, shattered the from forth burst pillars Concrete now. ashes in is city he perhaps these boxes and machines were more more were machines and boxes these perhaps that realise we did collar the by me grabbed and entered shoes immaculate and eyes dark with man tall a until not was It fit. saw we as buttons at prodding and poking them, around spoke we as on lean to us for enough tall cases, rectangular long into hooked them of Some machines. whirring with filled aroom into breaking before water, bottled and food canned finding chambers, concrete the perused we as age my others with abunker, walking inside being I remember wide blackness. aworld- nothing, now is sun, the from turned earth the when lights of amaze was once where and brown, and dull now were green in covered once nations of station space the from Pictures coast. to coast from a desert as down laid was world-power first once the disappeared; countries Entire out. inside the from them cooked radiation the as bones their from melted flesh their as cried and withered or underscreamed collapsing construction, unlucky the which in instant an an instant, only was It mounds. dirt scorched to turned be would hills rolling quickly how for themselves they could come down. No one had prepared ” or not, or at least none made when asked. asked. when made none least at or not, or force aworking into placed were you whether for made excuses real no with system, odd an is It detail. awork with assigned not group blessed the among all were they strangely anymore; friends my ever, see if Irarely, people. the about anything knowing without you around is who of asense get can you how strange is it crowd, the in Walking my shoes. clean to bothered bunker, Ihad the in when, I found myself wondering at that moment, demolition, but my eyebrows slightly. crease mass of grime the in rested they where grubby growing hands down, Ilook as chest my to almost knees road, the of lip the on down sit to moved Ihad dust. and dirt and cement but nothing was there until again that below and it below once was whatever flat pressing slabs hale, deadly like about shattered and ground the piercing glass of shards now, namesake its but nothing was Shard The had. ever Ihad nightmare or dream any than worse eyes, own my with visible was place taken had what of ruin the as me over calm a ghostly home, my once was what through awalk took I space. outer from earth the onto avalanche an like pouring was sand martian though as Idid, when sun the over haze orange strange a seeing remember Ido but resurfacing, for resurfacing.” I don’t remember “acceptable as deemed authorities what to slowed ticks counter’s Geiger the until there staying inside be to enough smart or fast but the undergroundleft bunkers, everyone nothing was there dropped, bombs the After threshold. that over passed we when happened what remember not Ido that so much so down, shut to me caused Isaw all of enormity The space. of vacuum the as empty as eyes his mind, my through soaring constellations and –galaxies universe the see Icould like felt I room, the of end far the at adoor towards back me pushed he as eyes empty those into Staring frame. bony his to compared when seemed supernaturalman whose strength a against fighting caught, Iwas but ran, all friends My monitors. radiation simple than

ONE OF THEM? OF ONE WHEN DID IBECOME WILL OF MY SUPERIORS? MANIPULATED THE TO SILENT WORKER TO BE WHEN DID IBECOME A to where it would be cast into screws and rods. and screws into cast be would it where to leading channel, the down metal the pouring start to astation taking areas, furnace the towards instinct on though as me carrying begin feet my and amber, to turns light The life. whole my doing been Ihad what was it though as starting merely and detail work first my on entering Iremember lessons; any remember reading any manual or receiving not Ido converge. to need workers which to the colours jobs different addressing or areas system, light-like traffic elaborate the I pass station, starting the to walk and factory the Ienter As instructed. light that as do would floor factory the on those one, pressed they when and them, of ahead buttons of a set with atime at hours for sit would people Some rooms. back the in and floor the on factories, steam-filled is It different. entirely something meant work mindless now no, But asupermarket. at items of scanning repetitive the or screen acomputer behind sitting meant had drop, the before work, Mindless them? of one Ibecome did When superiors? my of will the to manipulated be to worker asilent Ibecome did When so. doing are they that is it why questioning mind their within trapped but signs, following orders, following me, like exactly is me around Everyone another. one against nudged or passed they as head, the of nod a practised by accompanied apology, polite precise, very a was it did, they when and herd, the within spoke people few Very heads. lowered and boots clean of amass in daily walking work, to Ibegan once distant become had They Word

47 47 48 48 a windowsill. against brace I as palms my against rough brick dark alley, the to factory the of side the down quickly Iwalk as feet my under crunches gravel The Ido. as me behind blaring alarm an building, the Iexit until faster walking contact, eye avoid to best my Itry and blank, faces their me, assess to turns slowly Ipass Enhanced Every station. my from myself Ipush myself. Ifind where is that yet and attack, apanic for time is it indicate to were memory, from wall, the on lights the of None ordinary. the of out reactions my me, to turning eyes more feel I as calm remain to trying tightening chest stifling, positively is factory filled steam The side. opposite my from gaze the of more to me subjects only which away, body my shift me making and temples my into drilling mole; tunnel a like is gaze away. Their eyes my Iforce but irises, their in information of -galaxies them on eyes my catch they when me to flicks blackness empty same The eyes. their until up all appearance in different both right, my on woman the then left, my on man the at I glance They are obvious, right? are obvious. apparent differences;the knowdifferences I my acknowledge to jobs with concerned too purpose, their but all to blind were they Perhaps them. among readily so accepted am I why to as curious myself find Ioften reason this for is It masters. their to slaves blind and ordinary, are who those of suspicious and The heights. Enhanced are territorial, ages and shapes various of people workers, of uniforms wearing all these shoes, clean and eyes dark all room, sensor bunkers the in me found who man that like are They visible. glaringly are Enhanced the and appear, they knowing someone whether is more than of ways are There it. Iknow Enhanced, all are with floor the Ishare who Those THEIR MASTERS. BLIND SLAVES TO ORDINARY, AND ARE WHO THOSE SUSPICIOUS OF TERRITORIAL, ARE THE ENHANCED the curb so hard I could feel my toes breaking breaking toes my feel Icould hard so curb the against boots my kick to Ibegin Enhanced approaching the of eyes the into dead looking and snap, to ready and tight pulled moment, this at band elastic an is body entire My the sidewalk. of side each from approaching group similar a Isee turning and me, towards stomping all Enhanced, of agroup Isee alley the up back Glancing me. surrounds again once sidewalk open the of sunlight the until alleyway the down sound the from away Istumble beeping, and the despite this is aggressive, workforce the of rhythm usual the Unlike feet. my to back myself Ipush and boots, heavy of thudding the hear to away, Ibegin far perhaps Somewhere, mind. my from beeping incessant mouth, my cover to down move hands shaking my as muffled is no…” No, voice My “No… pain. of point the to sockets the into press to up flying palms window, the from away stagger to me force me at back staring eyes the but dreams, of full and expressive cerulean, astartling once were eyes My reflection. my into Ilook before cheeks my at lap wind the feeling head, my raise Islowly as closed eyes cheek, my of inside the Ibite unnoticed. not is factory the to return to mind my in tug inherent the although too, for accounted are sensations My familiar. seeming position hunched my from of note take Ican Everything known. always Ihave legs of set same the skin, freckled pale, same the Isee myself at down looking bunker, the Ientered day the as same the I am in an attempt to clear the the clear to attempt an in head my shake me making mind, my in echoing still is factory the in sounded had that alarm the but eyes, my out rip and boots my off rip to Iwant help. not does It wall. brick the against shoe my scrape to begin and shiny, left shoes my of areas the see I shadows, black writhing with dotted eyes, bleary With fall. would tears no that knowing sob to thesuppressing want my feet. off me knocking symphony, the within sound other every out drowns horn car aloud before footing my regain to time have Ibarely chest. my from wind the knocked simultaneously and shirt my by back me yanked had force invisible an though as backward, I stagger before groups approaching the at staring desires, conflicting and sirens of achorus is brain My twigs. like crunching impact, with 

We are the recovery. We will carry on. carry will We recovery. the are We brigade. the into down Istep as lips my on forming smile content by, asmall passes workforce the as street the onto out looking focus, into coming slowly mind and eyes times, afew I blink screeches shut. box the as out drowned is it although scream, strained adesperate, out let to able myself find finally and neck my in tension the from pop jaw my Ifeel me. of top the over closing slowly box the of lid the Isee because affirmation given been have must He move. to refuse stubbornly limbs my but back look never and coffin mechanical this from climb to run, to want I walls. concrete the off echoed voice His reset?” the for prepared “Are you sees. he what by satisfied seems figure the and reflection, broken my out make barely Ican which in glasses and eyes and hair dark box, the of edge the over appear aface Isee it. to familiarity strange beeping suddenly my a caught attention, The container. along into weight dead my lift to me below slip that hands the Ifeel and voices, the hear Ican together. put be to pieces, in slowly, me to returning is world The beep aware?” still it is why this, sorted you me told “You beep time…” fourth No, third? “...this the is beep

Word 49 50 51 Word

Alisha Brown Georgia Tan BEEP// Prey

When your clock finally unwinds and you find yourself parked upon the kerbside, head lolling to and fro with each sweep, slide of the windscreen wipers ring ring when you can feel Thudding, fleeting heart of tin your phone buzzing in your pocket hive, flutters, shivering and bare be silent, bee stinging you with each call, The prized nightingale falters, song obscured who’s calling, how did they get /sweep, slide/ by royal finery and prying eyes ring ring when you can still taste the A single rose drains of its scarlet giddiness, bloody stale coffee on your tongue, when you thorns piercing any that dare to pick. think it might be morning, evening, when it’s been a while since you’ve called Exposed, the frantic songbird pauses your mum ring ring Mum? /sweep, slide/ Licking her chapped lips, lost when your job feels like lead or maybe Skin too chilled for words to flow that’s just the colour of the bags under Drowning in billowing, snowy bleakness your eyes ring ring when there’s a list Paralysed and surrounded by thin ice of things to do /sweep, slide/ a list of Too precarious to cross. things to do ring ring when there’s a line of cars up your arse and somebody, Thick, dusty grime clouds her vision, fractured someone is beeping BEEP BEEP /sweep, slide/ like cracked, dirty glass splayed across the floor when you think, maybe, maybe things Heart of gold trampled by passers-by, unaware could have been ring ring maybe BEEP BEEP plodding through in mechanical stupor, not unlike things could have been different /sweep, Dull and plastic toy figures, manufactured slide/ ring maybe things would have with starry smiles and perfect masked faces. been different if ring BEEP BEEP who the fuck is beeping? /sweep, slide/ you think maybe you should call your mum ring ring BEEP BEEP who the fuck is /sweep, slide/ ring ring hello, yes boss? BEEP // 52 B Edward Furst currently enjoyed the gentle retirement of his and now), ourselves interest not need we means what (by life in himself for well done had who dog asuccessful was Bloodhound John infer, well may reader the As him. for out WoofingtonTimes the of acopy up opened he arms, his out Stretching three making times before himself comfortable. endearingly eccentric way, turned around his in and, table the of head the at achair up pulled face, abrave with John, Nonetheless, the day. of merits unpromising the of him convinced had that routine morning his to disruption unprecedented -an accessories wardrobe his among tie bow striped favourite his locate to unable being been had he that fact the to owing morning, this grumpy particularly was John joviality, morning his for known Not nose. black large his underneath bristled that moustache combed aperfectly sporting while shoes, black shiny and pants, striped tie, morning suitbuttoned-down with a chequered impression ononlookers. Hewore asmart an made usually that away in step each into much gait, imparting consideration measured and slow characteristic his in room breakfast the entered John sharp, o’clock nine At preparing for breakfast. and routine morning his finishing was John Bloodhound, who at this moment, very own our than respectable or competent more were none dog of class special this among And Bloodhounds. been have world this of good the and great the of many ages the over Indeed, companions. canine their among paws

and generally considered a safe pair of of pair asafe considered generally and trustworthy Competent, dog. of breed respectable a very are loodhounds that had been laid laid been had that

Breakfast Canine A Very onlookers. at orange and yellow red, of shades various flashed it as morning the in sight pretty very a tree the made toast curd and marmalade jam, The toast. spread and buttered of kind every of slices enticingly dangled and which had spreading branches tall and wide, Tree, the Toasting from toast of pieces finest very the of two picked flamingo the talons, experienced with First, breakfast. John’s of part each procure to proceeded it where garden, the towards off heading and slightly bowing replied, sir,’ flamingo the course, ‘Of voice. agruff in John said Ithink,’ usual my have I’ll morning. ‘Ah, good nearby. approached John and stood expectantly other the while dignity, much with it to next itself stationed and entered John had which through door the to marched first The buttons. black large four with torso the across buttoned that shirts white and pants black in impeccably dressed was Each room. the Times, W. the of pages the through flicked John As first-rate. dinner there hosted were parties invariably that and house nice avery was it that friends close John’s by upon agreed generally was It eight. or seven to up some in and room each to assigned were three least at which of doors, in for up made it however, respects, fenestral in lacked house the What window. large very a was –it said be must –it although window, one only and stairs, of flights three floors, five with house alarge in lived He years. ageing

two stiff, upright flamingos entered entered flamingos upright stiff, two

Word 53 54 55 Word

After examining the pieces of toast and giving ‘Now really, come on, you can’t be serious. a little nod of satisfaction, the flamingo then I’ve been chasing mine for years now without made its way over to a large fountain in the any luck. You really must have been mistaken middle of the garden, featuring four elephants and caught something else.’ with trunks arched upwards and angled towards a funnelled bowl in the centre. From ‘No, I assure you,’ replied the other, ‘As clear each one of the stone elephants’ trunks as day, I was going round and round and ran a gushing stream of hot porridge which making progress all the while when all of a collected in the bowl, slowly sifting down to sudden, bam! I caught it! Only someone gave the bottom where a pipe produced a steady me a sharp bite at the same time that made stream into the wider fountain. It was under me let go . . . ’ this pipe that the flamingo placed a bowl until it was full. It then raised the bowl towards ‘Hurry up you two, or the breakfast will go one of the stone elephants’ tusks from cold,’ grumbled John, frowning at the pair. which a slow trickle of honey flowed forth. ‘Hold your hounds, old man. No need to rush,’ There's Having done this to its evident satisfaction, the flamingo then collected the remaining replied one. breakfast items in a similarly traditional manner and returned into the breakfast room, ‘Exactly,’ replied the other, ‘There’s nothing to be gained by military precision at the nothing to placing them methodically on the table before John. breakfast table, you know. I mean, just look at what came of old King Alsatian the Fourth. After some time, during which John Breakfast-based military operations were the undoing of him.’ be gained alternated between eating and flicking through pages of the W. Times, a loud chiming broke the silence. It came from an impressive ‘Humph,’ John replied, scowling. And then, wooden grandfather clock which stood on one before returning to his breakfast ‘Do either of you know where my striped bow tie has got by military side of the room, with a swinging pendulum passing back and forth behind decorated to? I couldn’t find it this morning.’ glass panelling. Engraved across the top were the words Peterson’s Most Illustrious and ‘Not the foggiest,’ replied one, ‘sorry old dog, can’t help you there,’ replied the other precision at Grand Limerick Clocks and below this a pair of smooth wooden lips had begun to speak. In a cheerily. lively voice they announced to the room: The two young Bloodhounds proceeded to set themselves up at the table, giving their orders the breakfast ‘The time is now quite half past nine to the waiting flamingos and chatting away And every last Bloodhound must rise blithely. You see, the two sons had not If you don’t move your head, adopted their father’s sombre outlook on And remain in your bed, life and were on the whole quite carefree table, you Then laughing and howling are mine.’ and foolish young dogs. The elder one was perpetually lazy, doing nothing all day every John looked around impatiently. ‘Where are day before heading out in the evenings to attend group barks or howling sessions. know. those two lazy, good-for-nothing, supposed Bloodhounds of mine?’ he asked irritably. John had often tried to rectify this indulgent John, you see, lived with two sons who, lifestyle in his son by finding things for him to despite being quite grown-up with full-length do, but to no avail. tails and long protruding canine teeth, still enjoyed the convenience of living at home, somewhat to John’s disapproval.

At that moment, as if on cue, two young Bloodhounds came bounding into the room, arguing in loud voices as they entered. 56 57 Word

Meanwhile, the younger Bloodhound was not there was little reaction from his fellow much better. He was more energetic than his THE YOUNGER OF THE breakfast companions and he returned older sibling but had absolutely no somewhat moodily to his boiled eggs. consistency whatsoever, always devising TWO BLOODHOUNDS, harebrained schemes that would capture By now the time had crept by and the face of his imagination for roughly a week, before WHO DID NOT HAVE A the Limerick Clock showed that it was ten promptly losing interest and moving on to his FARM, HAD FOCUSED o’clock. Once again the wooden lips began next obsession. to speak: THROUGHOUT THIS Now recently John had had some success in ‘If ten lords should quite rightly be leaping finding the elder Bloodhound an occupation CONVERSATION ON And the counting inclined shepherds be sleeping by organising a farm for him to run. It was Then the time must be ten, let me say it again, on this topic that the elder of the two PICKING BOILED EGGS Bloodhound sons now addressed the table, While I join those ten lords who are leaping.’ informing them of his plans to visit today and FROM THE SMALL EGG do some work there. ‘My word, is that the time?’ said John, PLANT THAT SAT IN THE putting down his newspaper and double- ‘Yes, there is much to do,’ he was saying checking his pawwatch. ‘I really must be happily. ‘I haven’t been down in a week, and MIDDLE OF THE TABLE. off. It doesn’t do to linger and I have a how the jobs pile up. I believe I need to walk busy day today. You can clear away the the sheep, milk the pigs, give the horses breakfast things now, thank you,’ he said ‘Yes. We’ve been planning this race for weeks haircuts, have a good sit down with the cows to the nearest flamingo, who bowed its now. The snail has been given every possible and a long talk with the ducks. It’s a farmer’s head and went about the job quickly. The training. It has been conditioned, had its shell life for me, all right.’ This seemed to loosen two younger Bloodhounds looked at each polished, had its pores slimmed. It will be a John up a bit, who approved of anything that other and wolfed down the last of their sure-fire winner!’ kept his eldest son busy. So with slightly less breakfast before it was promptly snatched gruffness he engaged his son in conversation away. Standing up, they brushed down their ‘I see,’ said John. about the farm for a while. shirts and followed their father out of the ‘I do believe this race, while it is only my first, room, heading off to their various activities. The younger of the two Bloodhounds, who did will make or break me as a snail racer. I Attached to the tip of the younger son’s tail, not have a farm, had focused throughout this almost couldn’t sleep last night for nerves. I looking creased and dirty, was one very conversation on picking boiled eggs from the feel like all my life has been leading up to this distinct, stripped breakfast bow tie. small Egg Plant that sat in the middle of the moment and that, come two o’clock this table. He jumped at the first arising afternoon, if my dreams come true I’ll be And with that, I think, the time has come to opportunity to change the topic of standing on the podium with my snail by my leave this little scene of canine domesticity conversation by announcing his latest side, as triumphant as Caesar and as happy as and continue with our lives, trusting that obsession to his companions. a pig in a pantry.’ accounts of the dogs’ various endeavours will be given tomorrow morning, in great ‘I would like you both to know that I am The reader might observe from this speech detail, at the breakfast table. heading down to the snail races today,’ he that the young Bloodhound was both very proclaimed. ‘You see, I have an interest in one excited and very stupid. Having worked of the snails there and I’m terribly excited to himself up somewhat he continued for a few see it race. I’ve been training it with a fellow minutes, finishing with the declaration that ‘I canine on the tracks for a few days now and have no doubt whatsoever that I have found I’ve become very invested in it.’ my calling in life and snail racing is the only thing to make me truly happy. It is my passion. ‘Is that so?’ grunted John, who did not think My life. My raison d'être.’ As the young hound much of snail racing as a hobby. was prone to making statements like these, 59 Word “And where“And are these Metromen?” After days in the desert, with few remaining supplies in my rucksack, I was eager to return to the comfort of civilisation and clothes. clean “They dammed a river from the Ocean.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of our footsteps. “I passed them on my way here.” In fact, he claimed he had even boarded a magnotrain He wassubdued afterwards, contemplating the fate of his beloved bird. Although I doubted any of it was real, I smiled to myself, thankful that instead of descending into madness, my mind had conjured up this elaborate fantasy, down to the deep pool of thoughts in this strange boy’s eyes. The next as day, I tried to pinpoint our position on my map, he told me about the Metromen. “They don’t need maps. Their magnotrains go.” to need they wherever them take filled with people in crisply ironed shirts and opaque glasses and metal in their ears. No-one had noticed him. There had been a general hum of conversation, but the people did not speak to each other, only to themselves. At each station, the doors would slide open with a ping (“Like a typewriter,” I suggested, but he did not know what that was), and people would board and alight in perfect unison. Except for one man with a puff of hair on his upper lip, who remained seated in a corner like an old, arthritic spider. IT WAS A WELCOME A WELCOME WAS IT DISTRACTION TO WATER- HIS IMAGINE A GRAND BIRD GIVER, RED WITH STARTLING RAKINGPLUMAGE, ITS MAGNIFICENT WINGS THROUGH THE UNTIL ABOVE CLOUDS RAINED. IT I could not make any sense out of his words, which swirled around my mind like a sandstorm as we walked, so I asked him where he was from. was“From far,” all he said. “I must find the Ocean, where all the leak-fixers are.” And why, I wondered, would he go to such trouble to find a plumber? He laughed. “Where I live,” he began, “there are no pipes or houses or magnotrains. Only me, my water-giver, and a burbling stream flanked by grandfather trees, whose branches are adorned with nests and in whose hollows reside.” creatures other As we climbed over the crests of sand, he spoke of his home and I walked to the steady rhythm of his voice. It was a welcome distraction to imagine his water-giver, a grand bird with startling red plumage, raking its magnificent wings through the clouds above until it rained. But one day, they discovered, came. never night The sun drank up the little stream, and his worked water-giver tirelessly to gather together clouds the in the empty sky. She could not rest for even a night, for there were no more nights, and began to leak. “Leak?” I interrupted. “But how does a bird leak?” as “Just your flask leaks,” he explained. “Her keep not could She fell. and feathers loosened up with the sun or the sand that clogged the water and choked the poor creatures.” “Well,” I said, “you may as well share it with me. I won’t make it much further.” As he handed me his woven canteen to fill, I was surprised by its weight. I swirled it around and the faint slosh of water was music to our ears. “Oh, a water-giver!” the boy exclaimed, his face twinkling with delight. “I am truly in luck.” He drank in contentment, then handed his canteen to me. Even after I had drunk my fill, the canteen remained full, brimming with A trick water. of the mind, I thought, and closed my eyes for a second and pinched the bridge of my nose – but both water and boy were miraculously still there. “Where are you headed?” he asked. “Oh – I’m tracking a snake,” I replied quickly. “The last of its kind. I last saw it moving west.” “Then I will come he too,” said. “Every snake knows the scent of a leak-fixer.”

he leak simply could not be fixed.Even if I grasped the bottom of my flask with both hands, the water dripped through

T the gaps in between, a warm dribble that left a dotted trail along the dunes. Guided by a glistening needle and the interminable horizon, I walked over them at a painstakingly slow pace, in fear that any excess motion would jolt the flask and my heart would sink how for remember not could I deeper. even long I had walked, but it was when my flask was as light as my compass that I glimpsed a small figure approaching, framed by the falling sun. He was not a little prince; his hair was not gold, but a dark and rough mane and his threadbare jacket and trousers seemed badly torn by the wind. I there “Am yet?” he rasped, his throat as dry as mine. “How much further to the Ocean?” In my exhausted state, I could only reply, “Very In any far. direction.” few“A more days, then,” he sighed. “But I am incredibly thirsty. And what an unfortunate leak,” he added, gesturing at my flask.

of Water A Handful Coco Huang

58 60 60 persisted nonetheless. nonetheless. persisted him), but Itold papers,” carrying for (“A bag was abriefcase what know not did boy The abriefcase.” as you He programming recognises laughed. “The me?” see they can’t why “So sounds.” or pictures into them convert which heads, their in devices to messages send glasses The taste. or smell to ability the without and deaf, blind, born are Metromen “These replied. man no,” and the “Yes unease. with knotted stomach his asked, He everything?” see they how this “Is them. on focused he if suddenly enlarged which vision his of side the along dots were There taut. and smooth unnaturally were cheeks his and green-blue alurid was hair his but man, the saw and on them put boy The glasses. the him handed man the joints, his of creaks afew With Isee?” “May histapped glasses. He connected.” us keep to power enough generates it “but admitted, he much,” “Not you?” do it does good What move. you faster the move, you faster the “So, logic. his by bewildered was boy The faster!” train the drive to energy make we faster the turn, turbines the faster the and turn, turbines the faster the flows, water the faster the and flows, water the faster the Imove, faster “The head. his shook man The of water beyond the window. mass thundering the around circling was train water.” The enough has already dam the “But water-giver.” the I’m “Because disuse. from croaky was voice His aflourish. with glasses his off pulling replied, “Ah,” man the here?” still you are “Why time. umpteenth the for station main the into pulled train the after asked sir,” had me, boy the “Excuse enough on it, I could empty out the contents contents the out empty Icould it, on enough hard Ifocused if and sleep; in gentleness into softened that eyebrows, his of slant stubborn the by accentuated him, in aboldness was There cheeks. his of curves the ghosting smile faint a figure, sleeping his over Iwatched as Ithought, Scheherazade, my become had He sleep. of threshold the on Ilingered as eyelids my behind spaces the filled stories his rest; not Icould warm, suddenly now were that stars the under boy the beside lying night, At oil.” like tastes water “the continued, “But even if they could,” the water-giver hazy. and blurred seemed already world real The forgetting. of afraid suddenly quickly, glasses the removed boy The all.” at taste to like it’s what Or like. feels chocolate melted what me asked has anyone since awhile been has water. It of colour the changes music how or stroked, when purrs acat way the forgotten have they that long so for seeing are you what seen have They Iam. that think they “but smile, arueful with said man “No,” the deaf, nor senseless.” “nor said, he blind,” not clearly are you “But THRESHOLD SLEEP. OF ILINGEREDAS ON THE BEHIND EYELIDS MY FILLED THE SPACES NOT REST; HIS STORIES SUDDENLY WARM, ICOULD STARS THAT WERE NOW THE BOY UNDER THE AT NIGHT, LYING BESIDE I mistook you for a water-giver ..” awater-giver for you I mistook think to And better. known have Ishould “No, –“ time in leak-fixer your find will we certain am “I moistened, had eyes my and Ibegan, friend,” “My off. me shook he but him, comfort to Itried and broke, voice His night!” the during rest water-givers letting than oil drinking and making keep rather would who oil-makers, for need no and water-givers of plenty have would we them, for weren’t it If water-givers. for wait in them near hide they but leak-fixers, bite won’t they think; you than creatures cleverer are Snakes it. know you before bite and quickly too move “They elaborate. to him I asked said. he it,” at shooting by just asnake kill cannot “You voice. his in hurt the forget never shall I –and mind his speak to him begged and longer no it stand Icould Eventually, eyes. my meeting without flask his from drank he as him, upset to something said Ihad feared I wake. his in panting and baffled me left and vigour usual his twice with ahead walked he as not, evidently –but ill was he I thought oil. of acanteen bought unwittingly had he whom from oil-makers the of nor wasteland, Antarctic great the in water-givers dried-up the with encounter his of talk longer no would He silent. became he desert, the half like felt what crossed had we day, when one Then, snake. acoiled like feet our by apile in accumulating zips, the between gaps the through in way its forced and sporadically tent the against beat that sand the by awake kept but vanished, he case in him touch to afraid too him, beside curl to wanted Ionly moments, those in But snakes. silver their and leak-fixers and oil-makers and Metromen the of tales his from meaning greater derive Iwould young, the of eyes the in wise less much and older much much, Iwas when Later, –being. ethereal but –unreal, beautiful this admire simply and lie, shameful my forget even mind, my of

longer there. no was leak the eyes, my Iopened When away. wasted and limp went body my as urgently, Idrank, have. ever would I handful last the sand, the into sink could it before water of ahandful Icupped and open, spilled flask My calf. my on marks bite two the comprehend Icould before silver of aflash Isaw and way gave knees my but him, after run to wanted I suffocating. and black with slick ashore, washed leak-fixers and water-givers of bodies the soon, it see would He oil? in Ocean his drenched and other each on bombs dropped they how of Metromen, or oil-makers than worse people many the of him Iwarn could How undone? be not could done be to had that things how world, my was that mess the him to Iexplain could How how? But Ibefore could respond. adune up halfway was and away strode he that, oil-maker.” an With than worse you makes That reason. or justice without kill to it use and agun carry “You head. his shook He –“ but to, have Ididn’t –Iwish Imean alive. stay to job the do you simple, that not –it’s know don’t “You its intensity. under falter to began I and glance, a defiant with me fixed He aleak-fixer?” Or water-giver? a is kill you people the of one if “And what over.” be can it before die, to have People die. to going are people and on going awar There’s orders. have “I Iexpected. than remorse more with Isaid, sorry,” “I-I’m him. from truth the contain not Icould then And agun?” with it catch to intend you did “How said. he snake,” “Your with astonishment. speechless Iwas sand. the into slowly sank they as gleamed oil of globules Fat it. inverted and canteen his of cap the unscrewed He

Word 61 63 Word

Benjamin Ezzes

Find an island. Excuses slide out like an assembly line, measure for measure Anxious Song Success and survival are words in specific order, the same. Luck, unsaid louder in the head. luck and a general Not an echo but a resounding in a Narrow apathy towards terrorist of thought-pile. A chasing moaning. Hope to sin, unworthy sacrifice, Valley never be a Jewish and I have told you kvetcher. Here’s a dictation: when you’re not worth writing for, you’re here, there is a so stop sense of hunkering down. trying I am evaded by sleep Isolation. Breathless around you, to like a stalking lion. callous misery. be my muse. There’s nothing about the cleavage of words that entices me finer Grasping at oiled reeds Let’s draw building blocks than moonbeams on toast. Eggs a little runny. for purchase here, but to aid you Saturday mornings away from your cold, the effort must at a wider nib, hyperventilated embrace. There’s nothing about be worth it. broader take on things: the perfect eyes-meet pause that reminds me more of home. ‘It’s been a while!’ I say, You are a failure and maker. I frankenstein you There must be some of it in whilst a hug whispers neglect. to death when you undo me. I litter with my anger. I want you prescription papers; desperately outside of me. I can’t think of anything, liberate (You’ve been manning no, nothing that makes me sicker. the mind to catch it. checkpoints in my psyche, Find a door with sand beyond it, far, far away - When you are ready, up to knees I don’t want to use you.) I have arranged your shoes quietly and naked on it. Nothing about this hyper-personal at the door. approach that will Tell me there’s more in foil dots tell you truth. because I’ve waded, and wading in groups isn’t better, You. Don’t. Know. Her. * * * only gets hotter. This is graceless poetry. Here in Canberra it’s called ‘meeting place’ It and Them and They, but it’s the space between two holy mountains. just like Here. Nganbra truest: the sacred convergence and What is the source of the it’s closer here, (Rationalise, says Elaine, bud that gives life to getting tighter and less light, sitting in the high-backed chair.) this thing? It is clear as ever less light in here. that I am not fighting Write life, but fear Arrest my chatter in the to cope, not to hide and death. bones of the bones of the passion. All fire. Life is a busy exercise, bones of the bones. Be straightforward. and here I make me care. There’s no narrative here. Life is not the enemy, (How do you like my Just a slow, upward but I am. third arm, flailing, dumb? spiral. They call it ‘high-functioning anxiety’, this noxious partner, cruel foe.) 64 & we just bless the days with our silly living? silly our with days the bless just & we sings, heart the if what love; my but no to thoughts harm this gentle ache, face, my on light the day, to one & Iwake asiren, of echo the or wine or blood, not red, means just red colour the if What knees? her on awoman is God if What amen. say cul-de-sac, the of out wheels the turn fight, old the fight must we if death, agood ourselves earned have we if wants, tomorrow what knows Who no one knows when, if ever. come, to rain the for waiting still are We balcony. the on hanging left laundry the of think yet, done not are you yet, dead not are you lungs: my in breath stubborn fat &goes, goes just beating bloody some body, my of animal soft the Inside dirt. the in cracks through slipping hands, human of out held be to longing a strange – water of Idream night, All Done YetDone You Are Not Xu Donnalyn

65 67 Word One day we came home and Patch was asleep in the dust next to a long brown snake with a flat, bloodied head and strange, pale curved teeth gleaming in the sunlight. Patch is dead, Mum said, her face blank and hard with the pain of it, I felt the first spear of fear for blankness, death and dust. I stroked poor grief-stricken furious, thought and fur Patch’s thoughts about how we could have saved her, had we just been there. Had we just been present, normal. and kids. other be there’d Often weekend the on glanceWe’d at them covertly, Jack and me, intimidated by the way in which they didn’t belong to the waiting room like we did, the casual confidence with which they’d say, ‘when are we going?’ One sunny Saturday there were loads of them, maybe two families visiting at once. They’d pushed all the chairs together and were making an elaborate tent with a pilfered sheet. We sat unobtrusively at the edge of the room and tried to look like we weren’t watching, while the adults poured lemonade into plastic tumblers and laughed, as though they were at a party. We knew from listening that they were going to the zoo after, and I thought about long giraffe necks stretching into the cloudless sky and dignified lions sunbathing in long waving grasses and felt my stomach twist. After that, I sat in Kat’s room on the weekends, contemplating what I could see Paddington Darlinghurst,of and where tiny terraces stretched for kilometres. I scrutinised at them intensely, ravenous for the tableaus I imaginedinside, kids with school bags and bedtimes, mums coming in from work, pale stone benches wiped clean and free of jars of tablets and boxes of needles. diabetes The paraphernalia of sickness made me furious. I wanted to hide the medications, the asthma puffers and little strips of clear plastic with splotches of dried blood. I wanted to put them which away, in turn made IT DIDN'T TAKE MUCH MUCH TAKE DIDN'T IT COAX TO A EFFORT FOR DOLLARS FEW EACH, POLE ICY AN AND SOMETIMES OVER HANDED SHE FOR BUCKS BIG THE MAGNUMS... Up there in the eyrie I read dozens of books, delving in and out of all kinds of lives, hungry for new places and different lives. ingestedI characters, families unmarked by the fluttering heartbeat of a very sick sister, open spaces, new countries. I voyaged backwards and forwards in space and time, court unjust their and towns southern little cases, Hogwarts, the famous five, Narnia and the Emerald City. fly I’d free from the eyrie day after but day, the best kind of freedom was piling in the car (finally) and speeding along that highway. Sometimes, on the bad days, me and Jack would roam around the hospital, going up and down the lifts in the private wing and imagining there might be celebrities reclining there because wards, plush-carpeted the in was one once, Mum showed us in the paper. get treatsWe’d too. It didn’t take much effort to coax a few dollars for an Icy Pole each, and sometimes she handed over the big bucks for Magnums or triple-chocolate brownies or both. Most of the time sit I’d quietly in an orange easy chair pushed right up to the big window with the skyline arranged in front of me, a novel propped on my knees, watching the ant-people wander in and out of the Bandstand Café far below and dreaming. here’s a long, wide highway linking Bathurst with Sydney. It snakes through the mountains and at their foot the

T landscape flattens, broadens, small damns and grazing brown cows replace the endlessness of eucalypts whipping past the car window. The highway is a vein taking us home, oxygen-poor from breathing city fumes, or an artery carrying us back, replenished but not by much. The highway is slinky and sinuous, black as blood. As a kid there were two ends of the highway. At one end was home, fresh-cut grass and the pool, our dogs, home was Kat being well, bad music pumping from under her bedroom Mum door, smiling, the possibility of going places, doing things. St Vincent’s hulked at the other end, clinical cleanliness, the death-scent of flowers in neat bouquets, interminable rasping breath. Me and Jack (we werealways that, me and Jack, Jack and sat me) in the waiting room on level ten and filled out our home-school textbooks with the park laid out far below us and straight ahead the glinting red light of Centrepoint At Tower. the end of each chapter Mum would go through our work with us, never marking, just discussing, occasionally frowning and showing us a new way to work out a maths problem with a pair of scissors and a jelly snake. Other times skive we’d off the hospital for the morning and go roaming through bookshops and libraries instead, eventually tumbling into Kat’s room laden with heavy volumes like Latin for Dummies and Rome. Ancient in set games interactive computer Gabriela Bourke Suspension

66 69 Word AS WE HAD. I HAD ALWAYS I HAD ALWAYS THAT SHE HAD THAT ME FELT RELIEF, RELIEF, ME FELT SHEER RELEASESHEER STUFFY ROOMS, ROOMS, STUFFY WOULD GO AWAY AWAY GO WOULD FINALLY FOUND A FOUND FINALLY ONE DAY. MOST OF OF MOST DAY. ONE KNOWN MYKNOWN SISTER WAY OUT OF THOSE THOSE OF OUT WAY SHE DIDN'T DIE. WE WE DIE. DIDN'T SHE WENT HOME, BAKED THEM, ATE BROWNIES, CAME BACK. went on. We knew it couldn’t go on. I travelled to real places, London, Paris, Berlin, anything to fly free, to get away, and I learned that sometimes it was better seeing new places on a page in black and white, safe in a waiting room easy Nochair. entry fees, in a book. No reeking buses or armed militia standing silent and scary on a street corner. No creeping fear of white vans plowing through you as you either. market, the around meander I was twenty-two and had finished the final degree, undergraduate semester my of getting ready to go out to a bar to celebrate the end of exams. Jack was going somewhere too, a friend’s party. Mum called us, Kat was sick, they thought maybe it really was the last time, this time. Slowly, wearily, we changed out of our good clothes and drove to the hospital, pumped back into the ward by our own beating hearts. Life had expanded so much, it was hard to believe how small it all was, and how much the same, the waiting room, the ward, the window looking out to the terraces below. down glinting Kat was all hooked up to machines like in some of those early days, and there weren’t enough chairs for us to sit around her bed now we were all too big to share. We took it in turns to sit, looking from her open mouth to swollen, Mum’s lined, red face, listening to Mum talk receiving to her, only the remnants of a rattle in response. I thought, I can’t listen to this one day She longer. died that dust day, blackness. and sleep and I had always known my sister would go away one Most day. of me felt relief, sheer release that she had finally found a way out of those stuffy rooms, as we had. I hadn’t known, though, that a part of me would fly away too, a part of Jack, and most of Mum, leaving our bodies changed inside, ragged, sucking. We soared away that night, the four of us. Clean through the window, spiraling amongst the stars. Free. Mum angry, because she thought wanted I to put Kat It away. was just that when she was sick, when it was visible, I couldn’t float pick I’d away. up Hazel Green but the text would swim and Mr pastries Volio’s smelled like disinfectant and steamed potatoes. There are lots of sounds in a hospital, nurses’voices rattling food trolley the brittle, and bright along the ward, someone’s visitorcovering up their discomfort by speaking too loud. When she was sick, all I could hear was the rattling of lungs caged in mucus, battling to breathe. We were supposed to go home that day. I wanted the wide highway, the sense of breath moving freely through my body as we swarmed from the clogged Sydney streets to the fast-flowing roads beyond, the up and down ear-popping sensation of the leafy mountains, the sudden falling away of paddocks when we came clear of the trees, my lungs feeling cleaner too. I wanted Spot, my wiry terrier, her wet nose snuffling into my hand, pleased to see me. We had to stay though; they thought she was dying again. I was upset both because I didn’t want her to die and because we had planned to bake brownies at home and now we were stuck, mired in the swampy hospital air for another Nikki this playing kept They weekend. whole Webster song because Kat loved So Fresh and it went, these are the best days, these are the best days, these are the best days of our lives, and I thought, no. I stared out that window, somewhere, there down myself envisioned there. out She didn’t die. We went home, baked brownies, ate them, came back. They sent her again. back her ambulanced then too, home We moved to Sydney for good, so Jack and me could go to real school. visit We’d Kat in the afternoon sometimes, but I was safe in my uniform and the sight of kids my age didn’t make me hurt anymore. I wonder if Kat hurt, them. saw she when I read my way through all the countries in the world, and then I stopped sitting in that waiting room altogether because I had my own car and I could take myself up and down the highway, claim uni commitments, being kept back at work. face Mum’s got tighter as it

68 70 James HollowayJames Empty Sky Empty cloudless sky. sky. cloudless the stars, endless the toward up eyes his turns Terry settle, to roos the leave They die. to night the of dark vague the into away limps animal the and twice, then once, roo the hits and fires and aims who Roger to rifle the Then they spot another roo and Terry passes amoment. for twitching legs its ground, the to athump with falls roo the and shot clean It’s a fires. and shoulder his against firmly by the Terry spotlight. holds the riflesquare hypnotized and still stone foot, three about small, just there, standing akangaroo It’s switch. a flicks man old Roger’s moonlight. the of reflection the in eyes black glowing two of flash the then breathing: other each to listening just really, nothing seeing gone, completely sun car, the the of cabin the over now forward lean and turn men three The off. headlights the turns and ute the stops he awhile after and road, dirt the see to barely understanding, mythic needing even and deep of asort with parts these knowing drives, always he shot is eyesight his Though drives. man old Roger’s ute. the of roof the to fixed is spotlight 55-watt powerful a rifle, bolt-action a.233 nurses Terry lap his Across hilltops. basalt distant the behind set sun the of ends the watches trio The these. like times for except now rarely used Triton, Mitsubishi up beat old an backwards, facing tray the in T

Roger, Terry, and Terry’s son Tim sit sit Tim son Terry’s and Roger, Terry, smoke thick and and black acrid. diesel sputters and starts ute he

black as oil, lingering there – always. –always. there lingering oil, as black cloud, storm dark and athick as describe only can he what by occupied mind, Terry’s inside up opened has gap awide then since Still, surprising. that all wasn’t news the though nowhere, of out abullet like father his struck it Bathurst in university of thinking been had he family the told Tim When holidays. on only now him sees and much, him remember doesn’t he so five, only was Tim when Sydney to move to farm the left had Josh But fifties. their toward racing already were Margie wife his and Terry when born Tim and apart, years twelve born them of two the Josh, brother, older an has Tim university. for leaves 18, Tim, Tomorrow, collar. Tim’s on hand other his tray, the of side the onto clasped hand big one with on holds Terry bumps. and divots natural field’s the navigates he as side to side from unevenly swaying ute the pats, cow and grass over driving carcass, the to over ute the drives dad Roger’s speaks. one No jumps. Tim thud. asolid with ground the to falls one this and fires he and gun the holding is Terry time this some timeAfter they spot another roo, and enjoys. anybody thing a not It’s herd. the out thin and rifle the with out drive they weeks few every so And competition. increased the sustain can’t cattle, of head 50 with sized medium only property, His eat. to grass for search in farm Terry’s onto more and more moving been have kangaroos the rain the of stopping the With

Word 71 73 Word *** kind things to him but somewhere deep in her brain a switch will flick, and then from then on she’ll start seeing him as somebody weak. And she won’teven be able to control it. That he’ll become in her mind something of a kind man, sure, but one who is fundamentally weak, not suited for the job of husband, not suited to the running of the farm. And that all this talk from everyone, at the schools, from the man at the bowling club, that men ought to open up more – that this too is a trap. That this is what people think they want, but that what they want more, right at the end of the areday, men who were strong and reliable. This is the fear Terry carries always in his mind. So he contemplates the alternative. Finds comfort in the finality of ‘too late’ – safe judgement. of reach the beyond The ute pulls back into the property, and Roger and his dad say goodbye to Terry before getting back into their own car and driving off back down the path. Terry follows Tim back into the home where an old sports bag full of his clothes sits waiting by the door. In the morning Terry walks out of the house and kicks up brown dust and looks out at the property his grandfather started almost a century ago. The farm seems empty at first, then Terry spies the silhouette of a lone roo standing in the distance against the sunrise; then eyes the lump of the kangaroo carcass under the tarp on the back of ute; eyes the rifle sitting in its rack by the side of the door. He looks back inside the house at the bag of Tim’s clothes sitting by the entrance. Then turns around and looks at the property again: the roo gone, the farm empty, the sky empty: his own mind’s cloud encroaching. detail, afraid to test the waters. In her general exhaustion two from from kids, raising running the home, and maybe because Terry the made hadn’t enough, well spoken hadn’t extent of the troubles clear enough, his words dumb andsimplistic, and maybe because at the time she had been going through her own sort of darkness, she had left him in an still memory a that It’s embarrassed silence. makes Terry wince. At some point the four men call it a night, and Roger’s dad turns the old ute back around having Roger and Terry house, the toward killed a number of roos but Tim having shot none. Terry has no idea what Tim will do with his university degree. He wants him to stay on the farm, but he knows that’s not In fair. the cold of the night Terrycloses his eyes tight and tries to squeeze away the pain that’s been temples. stinging his It’s a gnawing fear that he carries in his mind always like a parasite, this deep-seated paranoia that all of it’s a trap – that he’ll tell Margie how he feels and she’ll be kind and say and painful then, when the clouds do return. They leave him on uncertain footing, afraid to trust his feelings, even more afraid to talk – struck dumb, silent – as always. The night is quiet but for the muttering of the ute. The roo lies like a lump atop the tarp at the feet of the three men. Steam faintly rises off the body. They drive for a little while longer before stopping again and it’s Tim’s turn with the rifle. The spotlight comes on and they spot what looks to be a young buck, and Timaims the rifle and fires but misses. The kangaroo, startled, runs off, and Tim fires again but he can’t land the shot, and he can’t cycle through fast enough, and just watches the roo bound off beyond the reach of the spotlight until it’s gone from sight completely. When Terry and Margie had been much younger – when Tim was just a toddler and Josh hadn’t left the farm yet - Terry had tried to describe to Margie a similar type of feeling beenhe’d dealing with, though in no great The cloud appears in front of Terry every follows and morning him out into the fields where, with the drought in full bloom and the grass dried up, it mocks him and tears through him like dirt. He wants to say something, every day he wants to say something, but he doesn’t know where to begin. He doesn’t know how to articulate even in his own mind what is wrong, just His is. something that mind has slowed to a black treacle-like night, the lightsof his neighbours’ homes appearing sporadically and always far away in the distance. At home drunk he’d beer before the television with Margie, Tim probably somewhere in his room, the two making idle conversation. Tim, Terry, Roger and Roger’s old man crowd around the roo carcass, picking it up, crab- walking it awkwardly over to the ute and tossing it onto the tray. Terry just wipes his hands on his trousers, Roger drags a tarp over the roo,his old man gets back into the front seat and starts the engine up again. sludge so that the only clear voice in his head is the one screaming at him, telling him that whatever he is feeling is fundamentally dumb, and childish, and that whatever pain he feels is a result of his being weak, and that this is all just something he needs to get Of over. course, there are good days too, when the smell of the farm and the fresh air fills up everything, and the sun shines off the hills in some great universal And way. Terry working hard feels his muscles expand and contract, the sweat on his back, returns to the house feeling tired but right, and talks to Margie, and listens to Tim talk about that night’s rugby training, and offers him advice. These days make everything all the more confusing TERRY JUST WIPES JUST WIPES TERRY ON HIS HANDS HIS TROUSERS, ROGER OVER A TARP DRAGS OLD HIS ROO, THE INTO GETSMAN BACK AND SEAT FRONT THE ENGINE THE STARTS UP AGAIN. Terry shot the roo in the abdomen, so that its guts all hang out of its stomach in deep, a deep red that can be seen even despite the darkness of the night made - he’s a mess of it. There’s a deep sadness in hisheart when he looks at the body but he doesn’t show it on his face, carrying just a glazed and frozen stoical expression. It’s the same face Tim tries to replicate, but with less success, the corners of his mouth betraying him, his eyes staring forward a bit too intensely, serious, not carrying the tired relaxation Terry and Roger have trained themselves to carry after decades on the farm. Terry knows Tim must repulsive. thing whole this find About a year ago, the town hosted a meeting at the bowling club for all the men to discuss what they called All mental health. farmers men, the raised in a previous were generation, sceptical of the talk – confident really, in their own abilities to deal with the Giving things. presentation was a baby-faced young man from the city who wore an ironed white and blue button down tucked into chinos. When he spoke he didn’t make eye contact, he just looked out past all the heads to the boards at the back of the hall. When he spoke he had a high voice and he spoke about how important it was for men to talk about feelings, and they all sat there in the hall and gave the man his due respect but truthfully the more he spoke themore uncomfortable Terry felt. In fact, the whole ordeal made him feel like a child. Some of the other farmers weren’t so cynical, and went up to talk to the man afterwards, and left the bowling club with handfuls of pamphlets. Terry returned to his farm alone, making the hour-long drive back on empty roads, pitch black in the

72 74 74 Cape Town. Cape and the slow creep day of in anew a pool of blood beneath her head just– it her is rain-soaked hair, family will her, find but for now lying like this for hours dryinggrass of dew. been has She of insects, movement in the long cowboys. There miniature bow-legged like her from apine tree and stalk towards forehead. crows Two glide down tall blade of grass, hops to her chest. Agrasshopper clings to a amber daisies printed across her line of ants marches over the blotched pink in the sun. Athin Her skin warm, is turning a ’ s amorning buzz we are not the world the ; soon her Kathyrn Lyster Smith, Jesus.’ minutes three for going been ‘We’ve ‘Thirsty?’ bottle. awater out takes and backpack the to around ahand bends nods, Smith walk?’ just we ‘Can edge. boulder’s the over nose a like hooked base its rock, of out straight growing atrunk on ahand rubbing ‘Aren’t they Smith beautiful?’ gushes, rain. night’s last from glistening and wet hues, salmon smoked in trunks naked revealing clothes, discarded hastily like scattered lies that bark shedding are Trees sky. bruised the against startling are greens to hypercolour:everything eucalypt set has that light yellow strange the in glinting sand white fine of path the on out legs her stretching pace, afast sets Caro her. with up catch to jogging calls, Smith me!’ for ‘Wait off. walks and birds the at eyes her narrows theirintensify ear-splitting sounds; Caro the door behind her. The kookaburras slams and grasp his of out wrenches She it.’ carry I’ll here, bag the ‘Pass arm, her for reaches door. Smith car the opens and head her over cap anavy pulls She day.’ this about funny ‘nothing says, Caro up,’ shut they’d wish ‘I both. them to alien so still sound the gum, anearby in laughter raucous into cackle kookaburras of trio A seat. his in stiffen him makes that aglance him shoots Caro manage. can he as brightly as says he we?’ ‘Shall engine. the cuts he wall; asandstone to track adirt down way part drives bitumen, the off car the veers He sun. the obscure to A

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Word 75 76 76 rid of. Her burning was sister when they found get can’t she eczema of apatch like mantra the loud, out talking herself catches Caro me.’ been have should It me. been have should ‘It lost. got time that older, somewhere is place this Africa; in felt never she away in still and Silent river. the of edge the at silent impossibly is It mud. squelching the into feet her sinks socks, the off peels shoes, running her off kicks She identify. can’t she sweet something and sulfur here, down smells It silt. grey and mangroves of aswathe in She’s instead. jade steel but is, it blue not how colour, its with her surprising warning, without suddenly, appeared it of mass green the water, the reached has Caro around. him wants still she that has he hope the all –it’s name his saying boulders, licked echoing in the valley, ricocheting off lichen- voice Her softens. face his and ahead up him calling Caro hears He quickly. them wipes he wet, are eyes His lives. new their to back Smith drags sound the canopy; the through screeching low, flies cockatoo crested A sulfur ground. the to wife own his tackled had her, To Smith sister. stop her to get to trying screaming, was Caro scuffled, they’d unsee; never would eyes own his what seeing from her stop to he’d tried bend, the around came Caro dead. already was she that obvious was it head her under rock the at pooled blood the From desperate. collars, their at yanking off, them pulled and up caught he until face her licking bezerk, went and off birds the chased dogs The it. with do to something had they like scene the pair of menacing black-eyed crowsstalking a grass, the in lying Trisha’s body see to one first the was he morning: That him. shadow memories her. Vivid after chase to response natural his stalling go, her lets Smith okay?’ do, to going I’m what that’s and walk to here me dragged You stop. just saying, you’re ‘Whatever saying.’ I’m what not that’s forgetting, about not ‘It’s will burn. burn. will skin own her if wondering sun, midday blank the to says, me,’ she been have should ‘It from the life she wants to leave behind. behind. leave to wants she life the from side, other the from her calling him hears She sun. the in out flat lies and rock abig onto climbs bank, sandy the up crawls Caro ears. her in fingers put her makes that crescendo ashrill reaching silence, the pierces cicadas of Arush Goanna. unwinds. mind Her tree. alightning-struck of trunk dead the climb –slowly here else something called it’s no –alegavaan, skin black speckled lizard, agiant watches away. Caro far feel marina the of boats the even cars, houses, roads, the sky. There’s nothing out here, no noise, to rising forest of slope green adeep river, the of side other the on water the in up sits She bottom. the touch hands her until drift body her lets floats, She periphery. the on dot agrey is Smith sky. the to back head her throws breath, for gasps surfaces, Caro world. diluted brackish the to eyes her Opens breath. her under. Holds goes She neck. her to up is she until her behind fingers her trailing water, the into steps and shrugs Caro walkers.’ other are there can’t, you ‘Caro goosebumps. to raises skin her underwear; her off takes shirt, and leggings her off strips She them. over stretches sky blue Apale dissipated. and thinned has cloud of layer The head. her shakes Caro side. her by stand to coming says, Smith ‘Huh?’ since.’ ever running been ‘I’ve ran. and turned away, backed Caro it. was That body. the over swooped and undergrowth the through burst starlings glossy of flock A it. over herself fling or body the to closer move couldn’t she found but free was she her; released He face. his slapped she before right he’d yelled, dead, it’s if burn can’t Skin that. like up messed all lay who sibling her to closer get couldn’t she so her holding was Smith suncream. needed Trisha how about screaming voice own her of her lip bottom she as remembers the sound biting hips, her on hands her puts her. 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DON’T STORIES IN THE GRAND SCHEME SCHEME GRAND THE IN FISH IN THE RIVER, THE PIZZA OR NOT.PIZZA STAY IN REAL POINT TO IT ALL. REGARDLESS. WE ARE ARE WE REGARDLESS. NOT THE WORLD. OUR RIVER KEEPS MOVING KEEPS RIVER WE’RE SMALL LITTLE LITTLE SMALL WE’RE I MEAN, THERE’S NO AUSTRALIA OR NOT. OR AUSTRALIA IF WE FOR GO OUT laughs. ‘Oh well, shit happens.’ happens.’ shit well, ‘Oh laughs. Smith answers. 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insect off. off. insect the flicks his knee, his over scurries ant Abull ledge. rock the over dangle they so legs his Uncrosses Smith sighs. her.’ killed who man the or sister, will remember my one No matter. don’t stories Our world. the not are We regardless. moving river, the river keeps the in fish little small we’re scheme grand the In passing. days just It’s not. or Australia in Stay not. or pizza for out go we If all. it to point real no there’s mean, ‘I mean?’ you do ‘What

Word 77 78 79 Word

Whitney Van Den Flux Turing Complete 1 Me

Turing complete function machine, Functioning, fluctuate-entity. Turing complete me.

A universal iteration, And cosmic manipulation, Of our blueprint-seeding.

Stare into the eye of my seedling father, A far more communal density, Than gritty slicked between my teeth.

Enclosed in your arms, Encompassed in a glance,

You carry me from here to next, A freeform father free from biology, Vexed we beseech finer things. And predetermined functionality.

A-stroll in cunning heart, Father won’t you give me for now, You’ve been here from the start. While I for give the other? How do we fill up on this lost matter? Distracted, I won’t notice, ‘Til a few imposters steal my lotus- Radial radiation stem in microcosmic home again, wave plates,2 Alleviated in my misery, plucked-petal- menagerie. Pulse ‘n’ pulse ‘n’ pulse ‘n’ vibrate, False ‘n’ fall ‘n’ flow ‘n’ ra-di-ate.

Closure creeping closer to the contents of the soul, Immaterial matters matter after all, Immaterial matters are matter,

This is all. 1Turing Complete: A computer or computer language that can 2The Cosmic Microwave Background radiation: a faint glow of light approximately simulate the computational aspects of any computer that fills the universe, falling on Earth from every direction with or computer language. Note, a universal computer is defined as a nearly uniform intensity. It is the residual heat of creation--the device with a Turing complete instruction set, infinite memory, and afterglow of the big bang--streaming through space these last infinite available time. - Wiki 14 billion years like the heat from a sun-warmed rock, reradiated at night. – Erik Leitch 81 Word Should have, but the sobs and shrieks down the hall were distracting. He showed how it was done, just the right angle, just the right control of the cue. He sank three in a row and only had two left. The Novice’s colours were still bright all over the green felt. This game was harder than it had looked, sitting by on other visits with captive men pacing around the table, aiming from various angles, standing back holding the cue upright when they’d lost the turn. The rituals of the game them. soothe to seemed “Put your fingers like this, then the cue can slide straight at the centre of the white,” the instructed. Master The Novice concentrated and was astonished to see the egg followed by the orange plop into a side pocket with satisfying a click. The Master twitched a slight smile on one side of his face, but there was no light in his eyes. His mind inhabited a bottomless pit. The gentle balm of electrical currents applied to the sides of his brain had as yet failed to break his fall. The short drop of a coloured ball into its safety net was a more effective reminder that falling could not be eternal. bandages his undone had Outside, Freddy and was observing the ruby gashes on his knuckles and wrist. “Ruby is next,” he told the players through a pane. missing Number fifteen was there behind the eight ball awaiting the Novice after the Master sank his last colours. It sat ready to fall, the white almost straight on. The Novice leaned over to aim at the far corner. “Too much angle,” the Master said. a “Just gentle tap and it’ll go straight in.” But it didn’t go straight inat all; the white didn’t even touch it and clipped the black instead. The Novice stood up as red-faced as the accusing ruby ball. The Master no longer exercised his patience. The lines of his frown “Not my turn, no no, notmy turn now, always the turn for the others first, all the others go first. My turn has to wait…my turn last.” The Novice stepped away in case Freddy decided to start swinging the cue or used it for a lance. But his shoulders slumped and the cue smacked the green lino on the floor when his hands fell to his sides. He crouched, humming, with a mournful stare, as if the cue had died. Sunlight bounced off his head, as bald and shiny as one of the balls. Something was printed on the base of his scalp, but his hands went over his ears and neck when someone started shouting in the hallway. Freddy hummed louder; the moment of quiet gone, the air fraught with voices of protest despair. and “Oh god, look at that! Look at the fuckers, fuckin’ mongrels, fuckin’ hell they’ve got it all, they’ve taken it all away…” Sobs followed. Freddy straightened up, looking alarmed. The Novice, also nervous, fiddled with the net hanging from the corner pocket, wondering if the game was over. “What’s the matter?” Freddy said to the fractured or his air, dead lance. Neither answered, so he went out into a garden courtyard through a windowed door that was missing some of its glass panels. He stood outside feeling the panes and spaces where panes should have been, watching his bandaged hand come closer and closer to the empty squares. He didn’t remember that he’d fractured them two nights ago with his fist. “Righto…” said the Master. The Novice picked up the cue and took aim at the egg, but it bounced off the orange and away from the pocket, letting the white get swallowed instead. The Master shook his head. “Not like that, you should have aimed at the other side of the yellow.” “Righto Freddy.” “No, no, mustn’t touch the black one!” “Yes mate, that’s right.” “Number eight last.” “Not your turn now mate,” Freddy was tried he when told to take the Novice’s cue. Anoccasional intruder would wander in and behold the colours all over the table. One had taken the yellow and white ball and tried to put it in her mouth as if it was a huge egg. The Master coaxed it from hoping her, she would not bite. Another came in giving advice and patience. Master’s testing the “Try orange next!” Freddy held it tight until his knuckles turned white. “What’s your number?” he demanded, blasting the Novice with an urgent breath. fifteen.” “I’m The Novice let go of the cue, but he didn’t it. want

THE MOVEMENT MOVEMENT THE OF PLAYERS THE WAS ROOM THE IN FOR BUT CONSIDERED, WAS THIS NOVICE THE WITHOUT EMULATION KNOWLEDGE.

he room was quiet for a minute, but not peaceful. Peace might imply of neither equilibrium, or harmony,

T which was the purpose of the place. It could have been a pub lounge, but it was almost featureless, with no sign of beer or any other sat someone Defeated, revelry. to incitement faded-brown-that-had-once-been- only the in green armchair, head forward on his knees, hands trailing on the floor. movement The of the players in the room was but considered, for the Novice this was emulation knowledge. without The Master demonstrated what to emulate and refrained from the concluding game too early so that the Novice had a chance to practice. Between shots, they could hear strangled breath finding a way out of the folded-up man in the chair. The Master’s patience was intense, conveying the impression that understanding this game was important, if not vital. It was difficult to see why, but at least gave a sense of purpose to the visit. The gameremoved them from the horrors of the hallways and adjoining rooms. Just short a visit, then the Novice was free to Thego. Master was not.

Eight Last Eight Number Katrina Kemp Katrina

80 83 Word

GOING ON, WHO CAN'T SEE WHAT'S A MAD CUNT HERE, THERE, ...YOU'RE JUST...YOU'RE IN YOUR HEAD. HEAD. YOUR IN The Master reached for a buzzer on the wall. nursesTwo ran in to disarm the creaking man before Freddy’s luck ran out altogether. They passed a woman in the doorway witha gaunt observed She her. standing behind doctor the scene, crumpling a soggy handkerchief and wiping her nose. She watched the Master, still frowning while he rolled the redundant fifteen ball into a pocket and put his cue away. She spoke to the Novice after the offender had been bustled away for his afternoon medication. “It’s time togo home now, did you have a good game?” the woman said, smiling as if they had been visiting a friend’s house for the afternoon. The smile didn’t reach her red eyes. Not sure of a suitable answer, the Novice put the cue back in the rack, and turned towards the future decreed by their visit. drew a clear conclusion. clear a drew Freddy gasped when the black hovered on the lip of a pocket, Lady Luck sitting astride, torment. of moment a for poised “Number eight last!” he cried through the square gaps in the “Number door. eight goes last!” But just to spite him, the Lady leaned towards the pocket. The black fell before its turn. he said“Oh dear,” and bit his injured knuckle. luck.” bad always luck, bad luck, “Bad Freddy squatted again, humming with his face hidden between his knees and his arms wrapped around them, this time revealing the number eight tattooed on the back of his skull. The man in the brown armchair sucked in a great lungful sat of air, up and laughed. “You’re a fucking idiot Freddy, it’s just a stupid fucking game. There is no such thing as declared. he luck,” bad “No!” Freddy protested. “You… you’re just a mad cunt who can’t see what’s going on, here, lucky Everywherehead. there’s your in there, and unlucky. Don’t follow the rules, lose your luck. Out of luck here, all of us here forgot the rules.” The man laughed again and stood up with his knees creaking. He picked up the unlucky fifteen ball and the white ball. “See these?” He knocked them together, the click now an ominous sound. He leaned right down and spoke into one of Freddy’s ears, though he had covered them both again with his hands. “Which one will break the window better if I throw it? Which one will crack your stupid number eight skull better? Let’s try your luck, eh?” eh,

82 Henry Lin/ Henry /Ruby Goodridge J/ /Lara Stutchbury Chelsea Saran Huang / /Oscar ParkerSam /Coco /Alvin MitchellBenson Chung/Lachlan / /AlanaPatmore, Music Kazunari Dee Laura MUSIC MUSIC

85 86 87 Music

Laura Dee Little Wonder

Somehow I thought Or maybe I’m just too young in the end That I could catch a feeling if I tried No baby I don’t see you as a brother Change us from the inside But if you don’t step up you’ll still be stuck on Somehow I thought ‘friend’ That I could trick my head into being my heart I’m still trying to deny we could be special forget who you really are How I felt when you looked at me in that dress I’m still trying to forget we could be lovers So I’m waiting in anticipation But right now I’m feeling we are far, far less breathing and hoping and praying Maybe love will find it’s way to us Somehow I thought That I could force a feeling But it’s little wonder that you and I are still so But I can’t far apart With you, it’s little wonder When you won’t give me your heart Little wonder that you are there and I am over here When your love seems more like fear No more than friends, it’s little wonder You’re my little wonder We’re a little wonder That’s all we’ll be

Somehow I thought That maybe you were different from the rest Though I feel you even less Somehow I thought We’d overcome the memories of your past But it’s little But your eyes are filled with scars So I’m heavy in manipulation Tryna draw up an equation wonder that Man plus girl equals love, right? you and I are And maybe you still see me as a sister still so far apart 89 Music

for a night for a night for a night for a night Alvin Chung You can have my love my can have You love my can have You You can have my soul my can have You soul my can have You while the angels were passing by were the angels while passing by were the angels while While the angels were passing by were the angels While passing by were the angels While Were Passing By Passing Were While the Angels While the Angels

Like Me Like That Like Me Like Alana Patmore, Kazunari Benson Kazunari Patmore, Alana

88 90 90 won’t give me your heart When you Walking Direction intheSame Lachlan Mitchell Lachlan

Sam Parker Lost

To find waymy home direction But first Ineed to findsomeself stay I needto or setmy sails Before I’m gone (x2) Before away Idrift Before it’s too late Need to findapurpose And I, Before it’s too late To believe in Need to findsomething And I, could comebackto haunt me Feel asthough thatcalm that boataway from unknownseas is somethingIstillshould bechasing Wondering ifthatonceyearning whole postlatelyamounts ofsad And I’ve beenlistening to, concerning sensibly vinyl desk attempting to actmore But instead I’llbebehindthiswood all that’s troubling Where salted lipsandsunburntskinis be Rather Prefer to let to mindwander placesI’d proper things Finding ithard to concentrate on To find waymy home direction But first Ineed to findsomeself stay I needto or setmy sails Before I’m gone (x2) Before away Idrift Before it’s too late Need to findapurpose And I, Before it’s too late To believe in Need to findsomething And I, could comebackto haunt me Feel asthough thatcalm that boataway from unknownseas But isitreally therightthingto steer observing. nomoreBut I’lljustlook, than thats beckoning I look outsideto theclear blue sky sleeping strangers reminds me,Ishouldn’t be While disapproving glancesfrom quiet on skincomescreeping jolts awakeHead assummersunlight blue water blue water 93 Music

Coco Huang Reflections

I like howdress I want to for awalk, take myself I want to to decide, Free to fuck, to dance I amfree 94 94 Toutes les femmesquin’ont plus peur Je veux m’habiller commemeplaît Toute lapuissance lapuissance, Rues ouij’ai une voix quipeut La Puissance Mais ilsesentcommea Je vais protester dansles Tu n’as pasle droit deme Libre debaiser, décider, Il va latoucher comme Violer, m’attaquer, non Je suislibre dedanser

Je veux mepromener Si elle lui appartenait Il est nul, Ilestpetit Il estnul, Etre avec entendue Lara Goodridge Lara

So Social So Oscar Saran Oscar

staying afloat But I’m staying afloat I’m drowning here alone I’m drowning here a- I’m drowning here a- I’m drowning here alone I’m sorrybutI’m adisgrace

Music 95 97 Music

asked me asked didn’t see didn’t wonder if wonder you could you the signs I the signs although I you always always you see the lines ROBIN Chelsea Stutchbury Chelsea

Ruby J Stranger

96 99

* Please be aware the following content

references to self harm, violence and Music gender violence.

Henry Lin Loneliness

Wonder when it’ll fade away? Play the waves; humming frequencies in major may just reanimate the grey monotone Everyday's the same, plagued with rain but still can't seem to cleanse the pain Or corrode and break the chains stretching temporally throughLearning memories except to maybe wait Learning to know when to quit trying to change what can't be changed, like fate 'Til my lungs inflamed Weight, rib-cage caving Decay the faith to try again A razor toblade, know a horizontal cut across the Adam’s apple Now that you’re "Gone Girl", I struggle to see the point Carried the both of us when you couldn’t, baby,when to it’s fine 'Til you grew complacent and blown me off thinking I’ll wait ‘til you make the time But you were right I waited and I waitedquit ‘cause I loved trying you way too much to let you go ‘Til weeks turned into months, winter comes but the only snow’s the static drizzlin’ onto your silenceto over the change phone I guess I should have known, but through the rose tinted lenses, all the red flags seemed so normal It’s all just perception Wondering if any of the things you've ever saidwhat to me you meant can't it Now the trust turned opaque, tainted with the doubt Infected cut oozing like the sewage of her decadence Sitting beimmiscibly in the changedresidual love Lingers ambivalence that only the evening’s palette can paint what it feels like You’re right, maybe we should just end this here while it’s still light. BUTORS BUTORS CONTRI

101 Art Alexandra Jonscher - Diddle Katerina Mehigan - Oceanus Alisha Brown - BEEP// Gabriela Bourke - Suspension Daddle I am a honors year Visual Arts student. Alisha is a Media and Communications Gabriela has written stories since her Alexandra Jonscher majors in Painting I work primarily in traditional 2D student and aspiring writer. She drinks an hands were big enough to clutch a pencil. and Art History. Her practice falls under animation, sequential art and digital excessive amount of strawberry tea and Currently she is completing a Master of expanded painting, exploring abstraction illustration (with an emphasis on horror). loves dogs. Creative Writing at USYD. through photography, sculpture, installation, and painting. Kim Nguyen - Moon Angelique Hall - The Recovery Georgia Tan - Prey Emerging artist and student at Sydney I am a second year undergraduate studying Georgia Tan is an aspiring writer who loves Antony Youssef - Air for Air College of the Arts, Kim Nguyen’s image a Bachelor of Arts majoring sunsets, the outdoors and travelling the Antony is a multimedia and interactive based practice engages with ideas about in English. globe. She never stops dreaming about artist. He uses technology to create art the body, object and perception. writing that next piece. which eschews expectations and invites Angus MacGregor - Joe, ‘E’, and Me. participants into unique and powerful Laura Moore - Scene #2 I grew up in Scotland and moved to James Holloway - Empty Sky experiences. Laura Moore is an emerging artist based Australia in my twenties. I write in both James Holloway is a fiction and non-fiction in Sydney, currently undertaking her MFA Poetry and Prose. writer from Sydney, Australia. He studies Dustin Jefferys - On The Line at Sydney College of the Arts. Media and Communications. Dustin currently studies in the Faculty Benjamin Ezzes - Anxious Song in of Medicine. He typically employs Michelle Dang - Save The Best a Narrow Valley Kathryn Lyster - we are not the conceptual imagery and compositing For Last Benjamin Ezzes is a pre-service educator world in his photography to tell a story. Michelle is an aspiring photographer and proud campus Jew. In between Kathryn is a MA Creative Writing student. with a proud refugee heritage studying managing anxiety and serving in the She writes short stories, poetry and Elise Gibson-Long - Black Leak a bachelor of law and media. community, he enjoys poetry and public through her work grapples with ideas of Elise materialises her ideas through @mlvdphotography speaking. home and belonging. installation, sculpture and print, exploring concepts of fluidity, flesh and perception Rosie Eliza Thomas - In/Different Coco Huang - A Handful of Water Katrina Kemp - Number Eight Last while maintaining an influence from the Spaces Coco Huang is a writer of fiction, poetry The power of the written word has taken natural world. Rosie Thomas (b. 1997) lives and works and music. She is also a medical science me to worlds of wonder, both real and in Sydney. Her work is suggestive of student, an art enthusiast, and enjoys imaginary. I think I live on the border. Gillian Kayrooz - Y3LLOW SUN sensitivity to ecology, memory and people-watching. BAY RUN & Surveillance over a relationship to a non-linear time, Robin M. Eames - REQUIEM FOR Scrutiny endeavouring to highlight the dual Donnalyn Xu - You Are Not Done MEDUSA Gillian Kayrooz is an emerging rhythms of each moment we occupy. Yet Robin is a queer crip punk poet living on multidisciplinary artist from Western I am currently studying a Bachelor of Arts Gadigal land. Their History Honours thesis Sydney, currently completing her Honours Shababa Salim - Snapshots from (Media and Communications) majoring examines transgender historiography. You degree at the Sydney College of the Arts. a Wanderer in English and Art History. I am an avid can find them online at robinmeames.org Shababa Salim is a second year reader, a clumsy artist, and a sometimes- and @robinmarceline. Hee Won Michelle Lee - Girl with a architecture student who has a passion for poet. Coral Binyeo art and photography. Whitney Van Den Flux - Turing Being an amateur artist, first year student Edward Furst - A Very Canine Complete1 Me moving onto bachelor of design computing Tanushri Saha - half different, Breakfast Resurrected through elegant panic, from commerce. Loves to portray the partially familiar Edward Furst is a fifth year Arts and Whitney writes with the hush of the jaded emotional nature of human portraiture. Tanushri’s art practice explores Economics student completing honours and the urgency of burnished love. A postcolonial feminisms, futurism, ecology, in political economy. conduit of great ferocity: @_.chrysal.ism._ Jeff Chiang - Interlinked and decolonisation. She is the visual Drawing influence from the concrete arts editor for Peril magazine, an Asian- jungle of Hong Kong, the Sydney based Australian arts and culture journal. photographer captures the urban environment to invoke a feeling of peace yet disturbance. Word Alana Patmore, Kazunari Benson - Lara Goodridge - La Puissance Like Me Like That Violinist/singer in electric string quartet Paper Stranger are a pop band from FourPlay and French outfit Baby et Lulu, Sydney, Australia. They combine their love and more. Currently enrolled in Masters of music and songwriting in this project. in Music Studies.

Alvin Chung - While the Angels Laura Dee - Little Wonder Were Passing By Laura Dee is a second year Law/Media Alvin Chung studies Law and Media/ student, chocolate addict, Jesus lover, Communications at the University of and piano tutor by day, and aspiring singer- Sydney. songwriter by night.

Chelsea Stutchbury - R O B I N Oscar Saran - So Social C H E L S E A, 21, is a second year Sydney DOOM CHRONIC, SO SOCIAL. Conservatorium student studying Music For Listening. Contemporary Music. Her style is heavily influenced by historical dramas and their Ruby J - Stranger emotive, cinematic soundtracks. A singer/songwriter, I’m slowly finding my way in electronic and dance music while Coco Huang - Reflections using my acoustic roots to create resonant Coco Huang is a writer of fiction, poetry melodies and lyrics. and music. She is also a medical science student, an art enthusiast, and enjoys Sam Parker - Lost people-watching. Second year Commerce Science student. Been playing guitar for a while and started Henry Lin - Loneliness writing and recording songs this year. I am a recording artist from the Northern Beaches, infusing Australian hip-hop with boom bap, lofi, cloud trap, and melancholic, introspective lyricism.

Lachlan Mitchell - Walking in the Same Direction Been playing music for years in my home town of Jindera, near Albury. Finally recorded a album last year under the stage name "LockKey". Now in Sydney to study postgrad medicine. Music 106

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