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Sydney Town Hall Tree

By The Disappearing Public Submissions

By Steve Denham


In my teens, Sydney’s flora
brushed the inner city and CBD
with green - but the first tree
I really ‘saw’ ...
curtsying to a zephyr at the ...


My Grandfather’s Ice Pigeons

By Robert Adamson

My grandfather would walk into the house,

on a summer evening after his work, then empty
his catch of mudcrabs into the bath-tub;
they'd flow out in a stream ...


The Disappearing

The Disappearing has been redeveloped and we invite you to submit your poems about fading and disappeared places and spaces. Explore now »

The Confessions of Saint Augustine

By Robert Adamson

'Meanwhile I was sinning more and more'

Saint Augustine


I suffered when Una my first love
was torn from ...


Alofa at the Vai

By Christine Afoa

First day in Sā
Us fia-palagis go swimming
At the vai during low tide:
My four younger sisters,
Two uluka’e brothers walk behind us.
Our cuz from NZ,
Teine ...


I Smell Buffalo in Cambodia

By Adam Aitken

after Tomaž Šalamun

I smell buffalo in Cambodia, ruins in Angkor.
I had come from a rich disinfected nation
to one overflowing with frozen steaks
and a disarming happiness.
No ...

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Notes on the River 8

By Adam Aitken

Voilà! Slums levelled, wharves, boat ramps,

central planning.

Whites, Koreans, Chinese

in cravats and big sombreros

sip their Caiperoskas

in the Foreign Correspondents Club,

the Nikon 1960 meets

Phnom Penh ...



By Adam Aitken

That year they rode low in the water
on a ballast of oaths and convicted emotions

moved on to springtime ports
past the Pig and Sows reef
and the ridiculously ...

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The Anti-travel Travel Poem

By Adam Aitken

The anti-travel travel poem suggests the road
romance & regrets
the endless paperwork we left behind
I dreamed of walking boots that wouldn't lace
anti-travellers can never get lost
in ...

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On the Chemin de Fer

By Adam Aitken

On railway land
Chemin de Fer,
avenue of graded lime.
On each side weeds:
broom, juniper,
perennial oak.
Almond trees in
pink white
like cherry bloom
but tougher, more industrial ...

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Pol Pot in Paris

By Adam Aitken

Oh happy child, kindly teacher – were you a fake?
Like you I'm taciturn
but when I give an order who's to hear?
Paris, I found it cold but ...

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By Adam Aitken

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Missing Persons

By Adam Aitken

From Tokyo to the Gold Coast they’d come. They were in the
papers, instant scoop, apologising, and on the box. In the
lunch break we talked about the old ...


Things to do (Heart)

By Jordie Albiston

a. Find heart, and place hand upon it. b. Time

to metronome beat. c. Empty above of all

things earthly. d. Fill with compassion. e. Sleep. f.

Remove heart while ...


Glimpses and ghosts on Larakia land

By Kaye Aldenhoven

The Pix, forbidden by Nanna, so I was forced to sneakiness,
gave me first glimpses of Fannie Bay - scandalous gaol in far Darwin.
Prisoners chained to each other, wearing only ...


Fetish Commodity

By Ali Alizadeh

I used to be brave. Emancipation

eludes me now. There’s nothing real


in what I get paid to do. Rhetoric

and composition, in-text citation


as useful to my ‘students ...



By Ali Alizadeh

The political struggle is also the struggle for the appropriation of words.

Jacques Rancière


We are decent. We love our country

and our liberty. We earn a living


off ...

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