What would you say to the idea of receiving a brand-new, exclusive broadside from the Daveyverse in your inbox every week?

BULK
ACE

FULLY
UNTOLD

  • Katwijk

    Hi, it’s me. Really, it was great to see you again. Our time together is always brief, I know, but at least this time I made time to sit back and think. Enjoy myself. Indulge in beers and long walks on the beach. I liked those moments we had alone together. Sunsets yes, legions now,…

  • Captcha

  • Josi!

    Josi! You are luscious! I watch you every week on Chartbusting Eighties just because you are so luscious. You make me want to slur my words and say eighdies. I feel fat in my Tears For Fears outfits, especially this gigantic panda jumper but I don’t care because I want to shout, pout and let…

  • Verlangen

    It’s just the future. We can’t hear it here. A midnight rain, detected by our moon-white arms. Slow dances around a secret pole, a dangerous dip in a sea. That’s all it is. It’s less than seven. My playlists, haunted by the aromas of Hoogvliet. Stars to guide the airplane. Gliding over the jet-black facilities,…

  • DNRC066 | LP | 2008

  • Superlief

    A soft freeway of bicycles propels me through the fog. Following strings of lozenge lights towards future’s mills and runways, our departure’s earliest signals barely warm. A fern’s puzzled twist as the passageway elopes. Kudzu. Jungle hums, for the planet’s relief. Teams of tomorrow under bramble guns, silk tissues and gauges. Blasted from the womb…

  • Zwerver

    Days since I spoke, muted trees. Patches of light on my skin. The sun’s echoes. I hide in parks, or kill time in shopping aisles. All the good people here. Moved along. Fixing at someone else’s address. Wet hair at tram stops. An idea you had for harnessing the air. I forget how it was…

  • The blisters on my feet have begun to weep. My soles, oh my soles, they’re red and inflamed like my sunburnt knees. The zinc cream tastes like acid on my lips. I can’t swallow, and my elbow’s sick of tennis. History can be read in a forehand, a groundstroke. The only mystery is the spin…

  • Useless, absolutely useless. I thought I could trust you. I thought we were on one wavelength. You said “Wear something glitzy, it’s a Studio 64 party.” Well, thanks. Thanks for pushing my excitement levels so high I had to inhale Ventolin. Thanks for prompting me to spend the next four hours in other peoples’ wardrobes,…

  • Last Friday’s Poetry Picture Show event in Sydney was a lot of fun: 10 poets reading out poems about the moving image, followed by short films based on the contents of those poems. Highlights for me were Kate Lilley’s take on Mildred Pierce and John Tranter’s “Paris Blues” but of course everyone was wonderful. The…

  • This poem was originally written and performed for the Red Room Company’s Poetry Picture Show project in 2006.

  • Fangrant

    Australia needs more hairdressers, builders, bus drivers, electricians and fangs. The Prime Minister proposes that all migrants to Australia be provided with a clean set of fangs. The Opposition Leader goes one step further by suggesting that all short-term visitors on tourist visas be given a pair of candy teeth instead. Opinion polls put the…

  • Lost in the city of poets, I tried running down random streets in the hope of finding you. That’s the thing about dreams: just when you’re trying to use your mobile to call someone, you find it’s suddenly been equipped with internet access, and you’ve been registered for some lo-fi mobile phone film festival, and…

  • Is there any rhyme or reason to Bo Dean’s actions? At all?

  • FRIDAY 6TH OCTOBER THE POETRY PICTURE SHOW PRESENTED BY THE RED ROOM COMPANY WITH SUPPORT FROM WALES ARTS INTERNATIONAL AND THE AUSTRALIA COUNCIL FOR THE ARTS ten poems about film and moving images, performed live by the poets alongside the premiere of ten moving image adaptations of the poems. the online video and audio versions…