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In Capital, both in the poems and the comic opera libretto, Alan Gould shows once more the confidence with which he can bring the resources of English prosody to illumine a sense of enchanted being that is very much his own poetic space.

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The backdrop of Carol and Ahoy is the Goulburn River and its floodplains around Shepparton. Ancestry and watchful reflection combine seamlessly in these poems, which are always in search of "what is tactile and particular," be it a gum tree, an agave or the past. West's fluid, ever-shifting gaze will be familiar to readers of his previous volumes.

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The poems in Circle Work are concerned with the everyday, the here-and-now, and how this can feed the imagination. Grounded in the physical immediacy and imagery of suburban space, these poems transform the apparently mundane into a rich and engaging poetry.

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These poems draw on graffiti, advertisements, newspaper reports, other writers and various circumstances of travel and observation. Written over 25 years these poems arise from seemingly fleeting, isolated episodes but coalesce into a broad and impressive landscape unique in Australian writing.

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"Australian poetry is emerging as one of its most significant cultural achievements. There will come a time when the part played in this by the Newcastle Poetry Prize will be part of our national cultural history."-- Martin Langford, NSW Poetry Development Officer.

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This, his sixth collection, consolidates and extends the range of his previous work, with diverse themes touching on popular culture, the political versus private worlds, rural and urban locations; artistic, literary and historical figures; the craft of writing and editing; rites of passage (illness, ageing, death); animals and travel.

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on a certain afternoon I, on a sudden, actually smelt something like a rat from the fifth collection of poetry by a poet I had been passionately in love with on a certain afternoon a mass poetry magazine, just bought was ripped to pieces by me and a newspaper, known to all, that had just arrived was carried by me to the toilet...

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Henry Darger was an untrained artist and a social isolate. When he died in Chicago in 1973 at the age of 81, his work was completely unknown. Now his work is hung in major international art galleries and his innovative use of materials places him in the pop art milieu. The poems in this book tell the story of his life.

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This is poetry of transformations and conversions: like mass energy, so time into memory, landscape and thought. As sparkling as the light that fills them, these splendid and original poems create as they reveal the connectedness of everything.

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The second collection of poetry by the winner of the Newcastle Poetry Prize.

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Carol Jenkins writes what are probably the best 'scientific' poems in Australia, making the science seem effortlessly familiar and intrinsic to human relationships, including immersion in nature other than human.

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An impressive first book from one of Australia's most promising poets. Underlying her interest in interacting with online technologies in the creation of poetry is a preoccupation with the question of what it takes for a piece of writing to constitute a poem.

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Andrew Sant's new essays are those of a contrarian with a darkly amused view about the limits of human ingenuity and, as a consequence, humanity's eventual extinction. This is a various, oblique, upbeat collection - sixteen essays as informative as they are entertaining.

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Here Not There

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...a collection of poems written over more than ten years in his new home. In each of the three sections of this book you will hear the sound of broken humanity through a poetical voice which shares verses of the struggle for justice, peace and a revolution, and bear witness to the blossoming of his new life of thirty years in this land.

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perhaps I am willing to be with you every day raising ducks. my heart, for the rest of my life is a window pane cleaned till it shines. early in the morning we go somewhere near to the simple-minded creek the sun spreading our skins with a deep glaze and the healthy grass reaching over our knees...