Raven the Bicycle

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You were like the marks that trail along the road
the breaking of the wind
All of you shown
When me and you would spin

We came home, and we came out again
Me the letter, delivered to a friend
You carried me all the way
Just so we can see the end

You are like the raven without it’s wings
Yet you were fast like the thunder
Black as shadow, but bright when the angel sings

Uptown?

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The cab driver shakes his head
when I look in his direction.
He’s not free.

I ask a passerby.
Which direction is uptown?
A few foreign words spill from her lips.
She probably thinks 
I’m asking for change.

It’s starting to rain a little.
I curse myself for leaving my umbrella
in the hotel room.

The traffic is loud and loathsome,
none of it going my way.
The taste of the morning’s coffee,
straight from the La Brea tar pits,
is still on my tongue.
I despise not knowing where I am.

Always a Fight

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Last Friday night, Andy, Clay and l met at the park on Old Maryborough Rd. We had organised the finer details of when and what to bring on the stifling bus home after school. Andy would bring the booze, Clay, the weed and I would bring the bong. Clay had even floated the idea of inviting Kim and Tracy but I wasn’t so keen on it. Girls always seemed to bring about trouble; sirens that somehow convince us to sell our souls and loyalty for a furtive hand job behind the toilets at the skate park. 

I thought you'd be different

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In the dim light of the stairwell Olivia couldn’t make out just where she was. There was an amber gloom as the afternoon sunlight seeped through the orange glass side panels around the front door. Robert groped for one of those push-button light switches that leaves the bulb on for a couple of minutes. He said that his place was on the first floor. He grabbed her hand and cried, “Come on!” This was the first time that Olivia had been to his place, though he’d stayed over at hers a few times since they’d started going out. The rather musty air of the stairs persisted on the landing.

The Visitor

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    He was attempting to collect his thoughts, to remember why he’d ventured down this way, when he found her standing by the river. She stood with her back to him, staring out at the snake-brown water. Jake didn’t know where the woman was from, or where she was going. He’d never seen her before; yet there she was, lingering on his land as if doing so were the most natural thing in the world.

Office Quota

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One of the things I hate about work is you don’t get to choose who else you work with. It’s a mixed bag of random arseholes that you’re stuck with day after day. Just like boarding a train: you might hook up with some hottie with a long ponytail and curves like the back end of a classic Corvette, or you might get greeted by a bunch of sheltered workshop commuters in football beanies all wanting to say hello...

8 Australian Magazines That Accept And Publish Short Fiction

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If you have ever hit the internet in search of Australian magazines and journals that publish short fiction, then you've probably found it doesn't turn up a lot of quality results. And yet Australia does have quite a few high-quality magazines and journals that publish new, cutting-edge fiction from Australian writers. Brain drip (that's us!) is a new magazine on the front line of emerging Australian literary talent, and we think we should spread the word about other, similar magazines that we love. Sharing is caring, and we reckon the more the merrier.