Author Archives: Sam Dover

Is all that’s keeping me Afloat, while wiping out the Ashtrays, rinsing out the Bottles, and ironing out the Sheets that kept us in a Muddle. Lindeman’s Cab Sav Bin: 45 Stains that bed where skins Were shed and fossils Lie) petrified (and weeping To some holy Genocide, A childhood crucifixion Haunts this tired fiction.Continue reading “This Dresden Dreamboat”

A manic magnification of all that’s good and peaceful. Lame goats are tight-ropin’ through treetops with one hoof a-dangle as I lay tangled in the tundra almost frozen – still – crystallised then Ol’ Meg roar roar roaaars again, shaking me from my cocoon with smokestack cataracts fogging past as coal cool cold won’t letContinue reading “Shadows by my side”

This was partially inspired by Hannah Gadsby’s latest “comedy” special. Where is my place in all of this? When I was brought up, I was taught that the merit of my position was earned purely through my existence; I owed nobody anything and I could live untethered and free to burn my own trail. IContinue reading “My Voice (Our)”

Missed messages and sidewalk stalemates; This sideways city confuses me. An urban infestation, there’s no assimilation, Just an old man with his foot on my throat. A colonial boot, a well-pressed suit, With the rag-clad clinging to the edges. The old girl in front growls at the beeps Of some renegade opal machine, Engaging tunnel-visionContinue reading “Get me away from here, I’m dying… (or Never Fucking Happy Pt. 2)”

The framing’s set, the ribbon tied, A soft sweet portrait in my mind, Like sandy strawberries, gritted teeth, An anxious knot, a salted cheek. I see it now; colours coalesce, The Virgin bare between your breasts As tulips tumble off your tongue, Into my ear – not to hear – just for fun. My monolingualedContinue reading “Out of nowhere; Out of my thoughts”

Skeleton trees hang earnest above And roos hop over the grassy lake, Magpies stop to pay their respects As I lie in my Mitsubishi escape. The bush mice waltz to Matilda’s tune As sun sets over the billy’s boil, But hearts and hands have lost their way To the pregnant fields where I once toiled.Continue reading “Rainbow Dreams and Golden Soil”

I dwell in the place where it’s never quite dark and the stars hide from industrial gaze. I’m trying to move away but your ghost keeps reeling me back in; that time you got the fish-hook stuck in your finger. I thought that, as long as I’d listened to enough Phil Elverum, I’d be readyContinue reading “Mama”

She took me down to St. Stephen’s Green and we walked beneath the limes. Her apricot hair gained a certain Venus-like quality in the early-Autumn gale, and I wondered what it would be like to be born inside a scallop. I guess my mind was trailing off to any odd place at the time, tryingContinue reading “Saint Stephen’s Green”