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   Starlight: reviewed by    [»»] Martin Duwell     [»»] Bronwyn Lea     [»»] Gig Ryan     [»»] Corey Wakeling

    [»»] Starlight wins the 2011 Age Poetry Book of the Year     and     [»»] the 2011 Qld Premier’s Award

John Tranter site

«Free Grass» magazine, 1968, page 4 of 5

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[Click the word "IMAGE" above to see a photographic reproduction of
the original mimeographed page. Click "TEXT" to return to this page.] Noted in my Journal on 2012/06/01.


YES FREE GRASS IS REALLY FREE IT COSTS NOTHING PLEASE TAKE ONE DO THINGS

yes yes yes yes yes yes no no no money no money no money NO MONEY like a dream yes

WAR.

Men came in a rage

Against

A weakening multitude

Belching out murderous flame

Dropping the bombs

That smash

And mangle


We are equally guilty

In our comfortable homes

Sitting at the bowling club

Sipping beer

While the bullets

Paid for with our money

smash and kill


Forgive us

For we know not

What to do

Too weak to love

Strong enough to hate.

      Tim Smith.


POEM.

coming out of the Hornsey School of art
the Elephant of beaurocracy [sic] stopped
             at the crossing
                of me the bent poet
                  was he aware

of me still alive and kicking
             south of the border
                we shall never know
he was only aware
               of the beautiful sunken lady
                 pausing also in the
                   air of her undergarments
she was only aware  of me the bent poet
                  in a foreign land
                  absorbing the colours
                  of the oh—so—beautiful
and never—to—be—forgotten sunset of the mind

        every such woman
        in every land was aware
        of the sudden decrease in volume
                   of her sweet—smell undergarments
as the bright and weildy elephant of age and wisdom
crushed her under his foot
     
        every such woman loved me in that instant
        utterly and without reserve.
     
                               Dorian Hawthorn.
     

POEM CALLED "OOO...:
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

                         Chris Kruger.


POETICS.
when the forms of verbal trickery have been exhausted.
when Verlaine's ghost is finally laid by the black ri
der. when you will "take rhetoric and wring its neck".
der.der.der ( i think he meant a.d.hopeless) when all
the sorry sullage of the happy academies has settled.
when crap has ceased to be hawked in the streets now
labelled as "the collected writings of a little soul"
when vengeance has been taken on the Chokers of Life,

then.

                        Patrick Lynch.

 

this is not a magazine, but a state of mind, its editor is a mufti in disguise.

we don't seek to make a bean, poetry is free, you will find where we're at in

your heart. free grass. free grass. free grass. free grass. free grass
     
     
MAKE US THY MINISTERS OF/DISMOUNT THY TUCK, BE YARE IN THY.../FOR NIGHTS SWIFT..

CUT THE CLOUDS FULL FAST/ THE SKIES ARE -- WITH UNNUMBERED STARS SPARKS...YOUD

WITH DISTINCT BREATH AND CONSIGNED .. TO THEM.. SINCE YOU SET UP YOUR/.. /GAINST

REMEDY/ TO LEACK OR LEAVE NO GAINST REMEDY RUBS IN THE WORK WHERE DOLPHINS IS

 


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