All copyright © 2003 remains with the authors.
All copyright © 2004 remains with the authors.


The women invite me
the blue room theirs
the curtains men separate

blue bright and dark
separated by morning
culture and road

the concrete space
empty billowing
hands me in

as if I could go there
even in the real
daylight through walls

I sleep through this
along my life

Jill Jones Marrickville
(dreamt 5-6am, developed 12.55pm)



he observes that
the big picture
of his life
the vast canvas
of his existence
seems to be shrinking
has been shrinking
for quite sometime
from multi universes
greater mega galaxies
to worlds planets
to circling moons
to asteroids lumps
to this morning
as seen through
his microscope
to a quite maneagable
friendly miniature
a dancing mote.

7am raynes park-uk n305



A bass clarinet crawls up
the patrons' legs,
curls round them serpentine
doomed man madman deathbound
diabetic who lived on demand
on a white bean diet
tonight violently revives
revolves draws a room to him
playing the black constrictor
no breath but his
the constrictor squeezes
the eyes shut
the lungs closed
the ears open.

Princeton/Sea Bright, NJ


Apanage - the word came into my dream as if it means
“the science of treating sewage” - the dream
(the rest of which escapes me) concerned
cultural studies as currently practised.

Is it in the dictionary? Not likely -
I know enough etymology to sense
it won't mean anything of the sort,
will mean nothing at all, most likely.

Old Concise Oxford is all that's at hand -
at least it's small. Apanage - yes - a word,
to my surprise. Just after apache.
“Provision for maintenance of young children

of kings etc.; perquisite, subsidiary title;
natural accompaniment or attribute.”
From the French “roughly endow with bread”.
So? What was it doing in my dream?

The god of language warning me perhaps
not to sniff at cultural studies,
however much it seems like handling sewage?
Oops, the prejudice peeped out again.

Only yesterday, meeting a retired
English teacher, my second remark
concerned The Young. How trapped they seem
in their youth culture. Doesn't it blind them

to the interests of maturity? Maturity!
Who uses that word nowadays?
When we were young (ominous phrase)
there was no youth culture for us.

We wanted what the grown-ups had, the mix
on offer of good and bad. Then - what
ought to be kept short - adolescence
was renamed the teenage years

and given money. Culture gave it crap.
The young were now all princes and princesses
maintained with perquisites of vulgarity.
Vulgarity! Who uses that word nowadays?

Apache: violent street ruffian, a vigorous dance.
And now I see behind me several
aging generations nostalgic for their youth,
creakily reviving their decade's apache styles.

Stiff-jointed me, I stumbled with my decade
through the foxtrot and the Queen Elizabeth Waltz.
After all that, Elvis the Savage God.
Oh but wasn't the waltz once thought vulgar?
Then please could we bring back the minuet?

Max Richards
North Balwyn, Melbourne



Wednesday, 29th Oct. 1947.

Yeah, right, telephone with Valentin New York

about portrait Detroit. - What else was there? Oh

yes, picked up $100 in Clayton

and looked at the landscape. - 5 O'clock party

with a lot of whisky. Ted, Wally with wife,

Janson with wife and son, Drewes with wife. One

does have a load of fun, ha ha, Herr Beckmann

giving a party, ha, ha, ha, - [end of note]

. . . . . . . . . . .

Wednesday, 29th Oct. 2003. Yeah, right, get on to Rixen about that numb

finger. What else was there? Saw the mason this

morning about *devis*, went bloody nowhere,

nothing happened. Bright mist, dim disappearing

hills. Write a snapshot for the poetry list,

smoke joint later, hallucinate beauty of

absent lovers, past holding, ha ha, what a

swell party this is, imagination - gah -

imagine! ain't wot it used to be, hi hi, -

. . . . . . . . . . .

Lagorce, Ardèche , France 14.50
Romance Standard Time



kind the generated has, that century-
related computer maybe, except form
exhibit to try to,
before studio,
show first. Did.
'68 in Art Modern

show The. Shows key
Not was It! Are they ineffective? How?
Being was It, way
effective! More and better.
Artists Washington
Memorial Jefferson
shape round.

Barry Alpert
Silver Spring, MD USA /(9:27 AM)


first snow     falling slow
hangs in the air
a curtain drifting there
thickening sight

you see
either the depth of
the lines of           or
certain flakes shifting
immediate      then
twisting     & gone

while slowly the trees
& houses fade
away         into
a distance        made only
of white descent

as night
                    gently falls
into place

Douglas Barbour
Edmonton 08:15



It is like that
but it is a game
like that
and not
and all the same
Its essence may change
but it is like that
and it is not

Variation is a scale of being
and being is
and is not
It is like that
and it is not

Be wary

Harriet Zinnes
12:17 pm


Tomorrow I will be 29
for the first time -
but this is a poem for today.
Today I am 28, ride home
on the X7 from Northampton to Leicester:
icy darkness without, numb
knees and buttocks within,
Locke's treatises on government
in a critical edition unopened
on my lap. A half-hour
doze as the X7 folds the intervening
null space between stops
around the rumble in its innards.

Kettering passes, and Market Harborough.
It is quarter of an hour
from here
to the Owl at Oadby, then the London road's
sequence of pubs and Indian restaurants;
the shop called "In Harmony", that sells
marital aids, videos and mags;
the railway station's facade,
another sex
shop on the left up Granby street.
Get off at the Haymarket, bus
again - the 25 - to Melton turn.

The neon diyas
welcome Lakshmi up the Belgrave road.
Harmony is attained as a husband,
28, comes home
to his wife and children:
Oliver bhai and Ruby ben, bathed
and in pyjamas, ready
for their beds of dreams and bedbugs
too somnolent to bite.

Dominic Fox
3:10 PM ***

I just heard

heading to earth

like a freight-train--

a massive solar storm...

Yes, with no meaning whatever!

Surprising over and over!

Gerald Schwartz
7:30AM, West Irondequoit, New York, United States


packing this and that
(more than I should) and less
checking expiration dates
stacking neat piles of poems
running extra copies
in case,
don't want to repeat
the same mistakes
it's good to
keep marginal space
for creative endeavors
and doodles
snap, click... zip
I'm off to see the Wizard.

deborah russell
9:45 am Baltimore, Maryland



as i stop at a red light
a dilapidated van pulls up
behind me and moans to a
halt its rusted sieve of
a body clinging onto itself
for dear life as seen from
a rear-view mirror its front
emblazoned with NAMSSERP
and beneath that daeha pets
eno syawlA i've only just
got the message as the light
changes and driving off i wonder
if how far behind with everything
i am could be measured and there's
a touch of frost in the air this
afternoon and as dark falls the
first snow starts to fall

Árni ibsen
11:45 pm


Today an ocean wind peels back the overcast, so that the wall of smoke
stands off to the east, at the fire's landward edge.
Beneath it
abandoned villages, some consumed, the survivors report,
in moments, the fire
so hot it melted cars. Houses scattered amidst firs and pines,
long meadows of yellow grasses peppered with cattle,
low-flying birds,
buzzards and hawks above, gone now. One village is crowded with men and
they've made a stand, and helicopters drop buckets of water. The fire
shoots shards of flame
across roads around and above the heads of the men.

Maybe there will be some acres of green
amidst the charcoal, maybe not, and maybe the sun will
rise tomorrow.

Mark Weiss
San Diego


Poetryetc is a listserv relating to poetry and poetics which provides a forum for poets to debate their critical and creative work. The list has over the years run a number of projects for its members, of which Snapshots has been the most enduring.

Every Wednesday, Poetryetc members were invited to post short poems on any subject or in any form they chose. The idea was to make a poetic collage of instamatic “snaps” of that day that reflected the international membership of the list. The project has generated an astounding number of poems.

The first two runs, of six weeks each, and the first ten weeks of the third run, are archived at Wild Honey Press under Poetryetc Project. The rest - amounting in all to a run of a year - are archived here.

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