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Latest Issues
AbstractHistoryArchive Description
'Last night I travelled across town to my friend’s house, which is also the headquarters of the riso press/comics publisher Glom Press, to help finish putting together the last two in a series of six comic books that Glom has been releasing this year. The days seem to have gotten longer really suddenly—it was still light out when I arrived, and, as everyone sat around carefully collating stacks of printed pages, two rainbows—one single and one double—were shining above the house.' (Mira Schlosberg, Editorial introduction)
Contents
* Contents derived from the 2018 version. Please note that other versions/publications may contain different contents. See the Publication Details.
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Language Is a Pain,
single work
essay
(p. 6-7)'Choosing a theme for an upcoming edition of Voiceworks is always a fun and divisive time, forming alliances and bringing back previously rejected themes. The best themes, though, are the ones that have many interpretations, and I think Flare is one of those ones. Flare jeans, fire, the outward curve of a ship’s bow, angry nostrils, suddenness. These images and others can be found throughout this beast of a magazine.' (Introduction)
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Good Milk,
single work
short story
(p. 8-13)''Nancy keeps the bath in' a room by itself, separate from the shower and the toilet and the vanity. It's a heavy and well-built bath. Durable. After Harper left she had to drag it in by herself, deep scores left in the chessboard linoleum. On the opposite side of the room is a full-length sheet mirror, not mounted but leaning against the wall. The only other thing in the room is the fridge. It's a commercial one with a glass front because it's easier to label the different milks that way. She can just print out a label and stick it on the glass in front of the rows. Sometimes she uses masking tape and a Sharpie to save time...'
(Publication abstract)
- Going Homei"ant hills are the first stranger i knew", single work poetry (p. 14-15)
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Haunted Countries,
single work
essay
(p. 16-23)'When I was fifteen, my father's friend took me skiing. We drove on winding roads from Linz all the way down to the border, dipping in and out of Italy, and then back up into Tirol. Our fourth hour in the car, we swung around a corner and suddenly rows of iced triangles stretched out across our blue horizon.'
(Publication abstract)
- Metapod for a Sense of Meta-rhythmi"always sucked", single work poetry (p. 24-25)
-
Me as Mona Lisa,
single work
essay
(p. 27-29)'Lina holds an upside down fjord casually between her index finger and thumb. It dangles inside a laptop she has just strung up from the ceiling, ticking like a metronome in the middle of the room. It sways between a hastily-patched plaster wall and the view of the fjord from outside. The webcam is on, and later we watch as the fjord drifts in an out of focus, our faces walking around her pendulum laptop.'
(Publication abstract)
- The Sporting Flare; Ballin’i"Barry Billy Bruce big men in the big playpen and the doves watch big basketballs in", single work poetry (p. 30)
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Electric Famine,
single work
short story
(p. 33-37)' 'I stand legs crossed at' the ironing board, not knowing if I need to pee or pass wind. I'm worried if I move a leg both will happen, right here, right now. A growl ripples through my stomach like thunder. We ate curry cubes for dinner last night - orange boxes of ice that melt to liquid peach and chilli. It's the only way my husband can eat. Everything I cook needs to be water or ice or vaper or steam, no solid foods. They would fall straight through him like a coin down a wishing well. Except your wish never comes true and you're stuck in a house with a cloud for a husband. A big, white, lazy mass of watery-air husband...'
(Publication abstract)
- A to Bi"I wait at the bus stop", single work poetry (p. 38-40)
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Crit Happens : The Successes and Failures of Dungeons and Dragons,
single work
essay
(p. 42-46)'Everything is burning. The smell clings to my hair and clothes, lingering in my nostrils. Beside me, my dog howls. The other travellers are silent.'
(Publication abstract)
-
Could an Ibis Kill?,
single work
short story
(p. 47-49)''Grace the ibis was having' an extraordinarily bad day. And her days had never been too positive before. She was usually either peckish, hungry or starving, being chased, swatted or dirtied. So, naturally, she'd assumed that things could never get worse...' (Publication abstract)
- Hariboli"when i was a hare krsna i laid in the paddock under cow", single work poetry (p. 50-51)
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In Defence of Watching Paint Dry,
single work
essay
(p. 52-57)
''Seize the day' really fucked me up as a rule of thumb, growing up. My parents were strict when I was a teenager and whenever I was let out of the house for anything social, I would seize 'life' in a panic, not sure when my next chance would be. Carpe party, carpe sex, carpe Sambuca. As a fifteen-year-old I was having too much sex that felt like pain or like nothing; I was crying behind sheds at twenty-firsts and passing out under tables. When I had to stay home, which was often, FOMO made me feel physically sick. I felt like life was always happening without me.' (Publication abstract)
- I Think I Prefer the Reptile so Push Me Overboard Pleasei"i am thinking about how somewhere a crocodile is inside some", single work poetry (p. 59)
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The First Felling,
single work
short story
(p. 60-63)' 'I am pulling out weeds.'
'The dandelions are bitter white on my hands when I first spot the canker rot on the tree. It's low on the roots, eating at the base. The tree will fall unless I cut it first...'(Publication abstract)
- Qu(I)ntessent(I)al Austral(I)an F(I)lmi"You’re coming up the beach", single work poetry (p. 65-66)
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Wyoming,
single work
essay
(p. 67-71)' It is June 2017 and I'm writing a thesis on Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities. It's a novel in which words and sentences are conditional. In one glance, they solidify and signify. In the next, they relax into shapelessness. Sometimes I materialise patterns of images, references, dialogue, mapping a route through the novel toward an answer. Invariably, new information topples the interpretation I am building, and my understanding is deferred until tomorrow and beyond. I feel like the character of Marco Polo, when he speaks of a city named Tamara.'
(Publication abstract)
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Heavy Bones,
single work
short story
(p. 73-74)' 'I walked home along the river'. It was afternoon and people were running. Running home, running for their lives, running for fun. For fun! I scoffed at the thought between my heavy breathing. I was unfit. I should be running, but I hated running. The way my body shook with every hard step, continually choking down air as if my life depended on it. That, and my bones would hurt. But my bones always hurt...'
(Publication abstract)
- Luna Mothi"The day they returned your ashes", single work poetry (p. 75-76)
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Treasured,
single work
essay
(p. 77-81)'There are three of us in the car. Dave's driving. I'm in the passenger seat, knees bent, feet propped up on the esky. Behind me, the Subaru is overflowing. Tools, leather gloves, screws, rope, cable ties, towels. An Akubra hat dangles off the headrest. Maps are strewn everywhere and it smells like dust. Finn's wedged next to a strange contraption spread wide across two back seats.' (Publication abstract)
Publication Details of Only Known VersionEarliest 2 Known Versions of
Last amended 18 Jun 2019 17:10:40
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