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  • DNRC061 | 7″ | 2007

  • My body is a plastic radio tuned to static.

  • Black G.S.T.

    __% of childhood. __% of country. __% of memory. __% of hope. __% of laughter lines. __% of dots. __% of uranium, bauxite and aluminium. __% of cowboys. __% of dance. __% of saltwater crocodiles. __% of totems. __% of Canberra. __% of your head. __% of Charles Darwin. __% of protectors. __% of peppercorn…

  • In the tradition of everything barnestorming and brill, [dnrc] has reached a massive milestone, just one day after the completion of the EvilWealth Games: namely, its fiftieth release. In just over a year of operation, [dnrc], the record label set up and made famous by the hard-working, committed and just-a-little-bit-deluded maestro of the signature jarmy,…

  • DNRC060 | CASSINGLE | 2006

  • It’s been a little while since I last had some poems online but as of today there’s two fresh ones at the PFS Post site, run by Philly poet Adam Fieled, entitled “Exes & Zeroes” and “Oh God!”. I’ve also got two poems in a neat little journal called Luzmag run by Lars Palm in…

  • DNRC059 | LP | 1968/2006

  • DNRC058 | LP | 2006

  • Hunger Sleep

    Sparks flew off the gravity wheel as I lay still and hungry in the dark. Couldn’t sleep, or thought I wasn’t dead. The sound of Jay Leno made me want to throw my crash test dummy away, buy a car and drive it straight at him (sans headlights). Lying there with the earplugs drilling deep…

  • Storm Girl

    as soon as she kissed me the storm front wheeled around (& something in the way her eyeshadow ran signalled the changing of the big new year tides the fishermen had warned us of down on the beach where her pet dog ran wild & her hand in my hair from here to eternity (the…

  • I’m David Niven but I can’t say who you are. You’re the mystery light shining from a great big star. I’m a top gun actor but I’ve gone and lost my lines. You’re the only script writer I’d entrust with my life story. I’m dabbling in moustaches, drowning in pink gin. You’re looking cool in…

  • He was unknown to me, a phantom bird. Our flight paths intersected momentarily, somewhere over a sandalwood sea. I dreamed of empty hotels in the desert. Stories that never seemed to begin or end. The virus came and I was stranded in an airport, feeling lonely. That much was real. My heart was bruised. His…

  • READ / BURN

    you realise this message is for you now – entering this bright blue now for the first time – the thirst for word from an emergency (not a word† you wanted to hear – it strikes you now as surreal – this imperfect now for everything’s summer – it’s for word & a page ignited…

  • DNRC057 | LP | 1973/2006