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


Throwing out the Old Calendar

New Year's Day dawns dimly —just as well.
You wonder what needs doing today.
Throw out the old calendar for a start.

But lifting it down to expose the new one,
you think: bad year it was, but those reminders,
pictures, scribbled comings and goings —­

take a last look before you bin it. Yes, o-three, mostly bad, but twelve glossy views of New Zealand helped it along.

Sent by my sister, as January shows: our childhood mountain, Egmont, Taranaki —­ symmetry, snow; and foreground tree-ferns.

January —almost unmarked: one long
slow morning at our hairdresser, then
that hot weekend: folk music at Chewton.

Ah, Chewton —sometime I'll write its poem.
(We're going back.) February, month
of book-launches: standing sweltering while

authors toasted authors and you almost
caught up with long-lost friends in the crowd.
(Overdue tax returns stole half the month.)

March: more folk music: Port Fairy, the big one.
All now a blur, benign, sun-baked, beery.
Play-going resumed, with Albee's 'wicked' Goat.

April: our house-guest the Shakespeare scholar,
whose talk and talks everyone enjoys.
May —but its picture! Whitianga,

where (eighteen) I first went giddily up
in a small plane, up from that smooth beach,
out over Mercury Bay and giddily down.

May, first time at the Johnson Society —
met in the dim English-Speaking Union —
where sexy Boswell hogged attention.

June's already saved: my Portarlington
verses (please see). Scribbles now note outings
intended but often as not missed. July:

in that little theatre Kaspar Hauser
lived most strangely. August, photocopier
problems. September —at least we wormed the dog.

October's Sundays of glorious memory
strutting at the Gallery for art's sake
(and ours) among the Conder paintings.

November: gardening. December: that
damn flood, not noted till the aftermath:
assessor, drycleaner, carpet- and floor-men.

Slant and partial our calendar life. Bin it —
but please, memory, save what you can.

- Max Richards
North Balwyn, Melbourne
- sketched 1 Jan 04, edited 7am, 7 Jan 04


After cloud though not sudden
blue drops down the outside

voices slip and whisper rooms
heat rasps on structures

and the colours move to green
gold talks undersides of leaves

I feel myself crouching
in a new and awkward seat

unbalanced unregained

a heavy weight of summer
hard at the windows

where is rain to separate us
from the metal force

pinned in a cold box
hidden from the heat

heat in skin water blood
while duties tick on

I glimpse the shifts in sky

I should be wasting time

Jill Jones
Surry Hills, 1pm, Wednesday 7 January 2004



two young
sweet blond
blue eyed angelic
carol singers
'that fucking cow!
she was fucking in!
didn't bloody answer!
and we fucking sang!
the bloody whole of
fucking Wenceslas
fucking cow
fuck it!!!!!!!!!!...

pmcmanus n335



Tug Of War (Stretched Suspenders)

Beach Scene (With Inner Tube)


Mosquito Netting

Leave A Thread


Old Fashioned Bath

Bell Tower (Snake Charmer)

Bricked In (The River)

Barry Alpert 4-14-73, 1-10-75, 6-30-75, 5-25-76, 1-7-04


[via Teddy Roosevelt, Joshua Reynolds, & Robert Rauschenberg]

You never know a man
unless you've camped with him
while collecting material for the exercise of genius.

strictly speaking, is little more than
a new combination of those previously deposited images.

Barry Alpert / Silver Spring, MD USA / 1-7-04 (6:39 AM)


Snapshot: At the Guggenheim

Elevator A

In case of fire
use stairs
unless otherwise

NYC, 1/7/04 6:40 a.m., EST
Hal snapshot
the day after


the new


a month
days so bitter
so stiff
i make myself
get up
move about
words pressed
into brew
tap uh tap uh tap uh
a drummer's beat
a poet's keyboard
click a click a click a
like a heart
a poem
like an ekg

Deborah Humphreys
Newark NJ
7:53 am



a screech of sun

speeding tires of dawn

                    on the far distant edge of town
where woods become
                    thick, moist and warm

where something begins

                    begins to feel as if

God himself

                    has dipped his fingers deep

into the earth
                    a one-handed lunge
                         for humanity

Deborah Russell, 01-07-04
baltimore, maryland usa
10:36 am


waking early to the still dark
walking slowly to the next room

then waking up in the acts
of muscle moves deep breaths

the slow enlightenment
at the window

snowlight glow outside
peoples' breaths hung in the air

grey atmosphere everywhere
holds the day imminent

Douglas Barbour
Edmonton 09:30 Wednesday January 7 2004


just looked out the kitchen

window at the backyard

and saw early in the human

epoch some purposeful

hunter ranging through cold

sunlight like that found

in a deep winter's trek

West Irondequoit, New York... 1/7/04, 11:54 AM Gerald Schwartz


a loss of connection

the wires tubes threads
that link across space
to your hand
have failed

gusts of wind
make the the gate ricochet
a canvas whip and crack
of the floor and walls
that judder under me

your hand
is in the wind

Lis Kirby Heaton House Farm
8pm Wed 7th Jan



end of tale
     the tail end
          of twelfth
night the
     lights still
          on at
     and off
          at the
          eyes make
     to adjust
          a new
tale of colours
the greyness
     of wintry

Árni Ibsen
09:00 am january 7 2004



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.

Poetryetc, like its affiliate Salt Publishing (, was founded by Australian poet John Kinsella. Salt is managed by Christopher Hamilton-Emery (, while Poetryetc is owned by Alison Croggon ( Poetryetc is now archived at and anyone interested can join from that url.

To contact the listowner: Alison Croggon

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