robertadamson.com

robbiecoburn.com.au

Robbie Coburn

http://robbiecoburn.com.au/books

Before Bone and Viscera. I prepared my flesh for its new life yesterday. Steadied the crudely fashioned handles and pulled. The rip left sheets of scar tissue emptying. Onto the carpet, a stain forming a puddle beneath. My naked white toes. The torn opening widened into a hole where. My mouth had been, sprawled still across the. The scarred surface shed its habit and. Abandoned its blemishes easily. Falling through the circled and frayed furrows. After the burning of dawn tanned the leathery. His work is...

robbiecoburn.com.au

Robbie Coburn

http://robbiecoburn.com.au/about

The ways we have altered. As if time were shaping us. Into a fully formed image of a family. From the weatherboard house. Released into the clean air. I have used this image to rake. Rocks from the driveway. To release the heavy breath. Below the urgency of it all. I have wished to remove all of it. To refashion your eyes. Empty your bodies of the knots. Building towards a fall. Crossing the dams in hope of alterations. I can attempt to heal. Beyond scars in the skin,. A depth without physical form.

robbiecoburn.com.au

Robbie Coburn

http://robbiecoburn.com.au/books/human-batteries

Dawn comes not unlike. The sleeplessness preceding it,. Unalterable and dragging through your breath. Then there's the acute aloneness you have felt engraining anyway. You walk on and pass through. An inexplicable view you search for. And watch fade perfectly from the periphery. Your tongue fallen into deeper silence with each considered motion. Thought itself is inconceivable. But you know at some point the grasses reach an end. And the pale tree-faces turn away. The wind will start to dissolve skin.

robbiecoburn.com.au

Robbie Coburn

http://robbiecoburn.com.au/gigs

Any pasture welcomes decay,. Skin worn in exposure. The horizon goes unseen at the crimson dawn. Body unrecognisable in the cold air. Feeling of crossing the morning too quickly. And returning to the house. You are not a part of this place. Robbie Coburn is an Australian poet. He was born in June 1994 in Melbourne and grew up on his family’s farm in the semi-rural locality of Woodstock, Victoria. And his poems have been anthologised. His poetry collections are. He currently resides in Melbourne. Blank Ru...

mycroft.com.au

News | Mycroft Books

http://mycroft.com.au/category/news

Skip to primary content. Skip to secondary content. News about Mycroft Books, where you can find us, and what we have planned. Some photos from the Spring-time Market. September 9, 2011. This gallery contains 2 photos. Here are a couple of shots of the stall at the Spring-time Market held at The Wall on Wednesday night. September 8, 2011. Head over to our Facebook page and throw us a like. You’ll get updates about our next outing. Or sign up for email updates on our contact page. September 6, 2011.

theaustralianpoetlaureate.wordpress.com

Not all serious poetry is serious. | The Australian Poet Laureate

https://theaustralianpoetlaureate.wordpress.com/2009/09/30/not-all-serious-poetry-is-serious

The Australian Poet Laureate. Not all serious poetry is serious. September 30, 2009. For a bit of fun I nominated my friend Noah as the first Poet Laureate. I thought his poem here. Was a good start, a way of deflating the horrible seriousness that sometimes overtakes poetry. Of course, as everyone who knows me knows, I believe the First Poet Laureate of Australia should be the legend Robert Adamson. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Email (Address never made public).

presspressblog.blogspot.com

The PressPress Blog: May 2010

http://presspressblog.blogspot.com/2010_05_01_archive.html

Monday, May 10, 2010. REVIEWS: Vleeskens' Sandals in a Camel (Earthdance, 2010). Well, he said he was retired but PressPress. Insisted on publishing a mini-retrospective called CV. And now Vleeskens is doing it for himself - a self-mashed collection which clearly says at the beginning:. And many of the phrases. Used in these poems. Have previously appeared in print. Sandals in a Camel. Croaks on the submerged. It's a confident persona, though he's self-deprecating and self-aware - as in POEM. This is a s...

robbiecoburn.com.au

Robbie Coburn

http://robbiecoburn.com.au/other-writing

Pinned into my stomach, the wound. Slowly heals, sadly. Here in the summertime, a rusted nail. Creaks beneath my flesh. Scratched along the unnerved skin. This cycle bores me. Heat batters the windows. Still tired, serene daylight bent. Against the encroaching frost. Even when it is bright a charcoal. Cloud grows and rains falls from. Sweating against the inferno of sun. Cant wear shirts anymore. And his poems have been anthologised. His poetry collections are. Robert Adamson has noted that his poems are...

robbiecoburn.com.au

Robbie Coburn

http://robbiecoburn.com.au/books/rain-season

Walking the paddocks I saw a dog attack a bird,. Take its fragile body in its jaws and shake it of all life. It lay motionless on the earth, the shrill cry that shattered the grasses fleeting. I wondered what it must have thought of when its throat was torn,. Who must now wait for its return, the coming of only a longer silence-. Death, as absence, has a permanence the skin cannot repair,. Captured in any moment that passes beneath a perfumed rain,. I recalled your ghost, transparent in the open paddock,.