Bonnie Smith

20 February 2016

Rigging, Sunday 3pm

“They’re called barn doors,” she tells me.

Peek A Boo

Psyched Out

K+B+M 2010

I’ll leave my bones behind to pry you from His greedy hands and greet you again, with greedy hands of my own.

Dead Moths, Wishful Thinking and a Boy I Used to Know

I read somewhere that moths use moonbeams to guide them back to their nests at night.

Mind Your Head

Stephanie Choo wraps her head around concussions.


A short story by Candy James-Zoccoli.

Aux Chord Wars

Max PH explains why he doesn’t like your favourite song

Underground, Outer Space

A poem written about Carolyn Huane.

Invisible Sunflowers


Speaking with members of the college system, it’s not difficult to find traces of hypermasculinity within Australian university culture.

Am I Here?

Who am I and what am I doing here? Am I here at all, and if not, where the hell am I?

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