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Author: Davey Dreamnation
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Invisible Moon
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2 min read
there has to be an invisible moon over on the other side of the sun gravitationally drawing me to you how else can i explain these forces lifting me out of my dreams to float like a silver balloon out our window behind the dunes & under the beach beneath the pavement & the rocks…
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To be honest …
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1 min read
… when I posted that picture yesterday, I didn’t realise it would be automatically shared with Facebook, and so I’m a little surprised at all the hits and likes it’s generated (nerd reveal: I was just testing the ‘image’ post format). So, for those who didn’t make the connection, the thing that ‘happened’ was that…
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So, this happened …
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0 min read
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dress young
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2 min read
This poem was first published in Page Seventeen (2010) and also appeared in my privately-published chapbook Final Friday (2010).
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The Curtains
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4 min read
This is possibly one of my oldest unpublished poems, probably dating from around 1992. I remember showing it to a girl I was going out with in the late 1990s; she read it and then exclaimed “But what does it meeeeeaaannnnn???!” We broke up shortly after that.
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SIPRI Yearbook 2012: its part in my downfall
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2 min read
Heh, heh. Well, not really. But in the spirit of Spike Milligan, one could say that the last six months, during which I’ve been working at the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) as an editor, have well and truly opened my eyes to what’s goin’ ahn in this crazy, mixed up world.
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Morgantown personal rapid transit
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1 min read
You have to admit that some of the most untold ideas ever have come out of France: Henri Laconte, Minitel, Daft Punk and, best of all, Aramis.
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From the archives: “He carried oranges”
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5 min read
I have absolutely no idea what this prose fragment was supposed to be about but I do know that it’s been fifteen years or so since I cared one way or the other. I was probably reading too much Borges at the time. The good folks at Going Down Swinging have cross-posted this piece on…
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From the archives: What a bird
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1 min read
This is one of my all-time favourite poems, mostly because it’s just so daft. I think I wrote it in the late 1990s. It has a real ‘I don’t give a fuck’ feel about it. I remember reading it at ‘Chapel off Chapel’ at some point, right before the release of The Happy Farang. Good…
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Yikes! Where did the time go?
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7 min read
‘Regular’ ‘readers’ of this ‘blog’ would be excused for thinking that I’d fallen under a bus, given the absolute lack of any kind of update for over a month now. But the contrary is true: far from having fallen under a bus, I’m actually – ah, whatever.
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Sam & Dave historical tour
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2 min read
One of the things that I’ve been quietly bitter about for a long time now is the fact that the Wikipedia page for David Prater redirects to the page for Dave Prater from the soul duo Sam and Dave. Some time earlier this century I attempted to channel my misguided anger via a poem on…
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An ex-editor’s lament
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2 min read
This poem has absolutely nothing to do with me reaching the end of my time as Managing Editor of Cordite Poetry Review.
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Neenish tarts, bus shelters, Wagga Wagga and me
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4 min read
Never thought I’d use these four ‘terms’ in the same sentence but there you go – if life was a Venn diagram, there are several shaded areas in which me and neenish tarts would intersect.
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Poem of the week newsletter: twenty poems in!
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2 min read
If it seems like an age ago that I posted the first installment of my poem-of-the-week odyssey, that’s because it was.
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Donald G. Payne on benzedrine, baths and nymphos
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1 min read
After a while she realized she’d made a mistake: the sort of mistake that would never have occurred if she hadn’t been so tired. She tossed the calculations aside. She lit a cigarette, and noticed her hands were trembling. Christabel Barlow, she told herself, you’re damn-all use to anyone in your present state; you need…