Tag Archives: Sam van Zweden

Sail (Sam van Zweden)

27 Mar

I heard

they built streets

in Europe

on dead river beds

throwing down tiles

in denial

when it rains

streets flood

al fresco floating down stream

deluge-diluted lattes

gondolas drag-racing trucks at the lights


Melbourne just built roads


three-inch grooves

mosey trams along

and when it rains the way it has

for weeks now

these grooves become tiny Yarras

eventually their banks burst

giving me no other choice

no other way forward

but to sail


Vox: Sam van Zweden

6 Dec

Reeling between aloneness and togetherness. I am not panicked. I am excited by the places where the two worlds meet. Postmodern trickery on the page would make little to no sense if Google hadn’t changed the way we read. Last night a tweet-up saved my life.


pages. written. musty library books. overdue fines. rainy day curling up with coffee and. lining shelves. procrastinating by alphabetizing. holding a secret in my hands. my own copy. book shop. dreams – one day I’ll have my own. running out of room for. exchange. hunting op shops for. I’m feeling down, can you bring me a? lying in the sun reading. notes in margins. inherited notes in margins of second hand copies. judging by a cover. judging by embossed lettering and quality of paper. dog-eared pages. book art. perving on commuter’s reads. bags full of. café corner. lending etiquette. physical copy signed by physical author at physical launch. smell of pages, pages, pages.


www. one click. hyperlink. interactive fiction. free classics. twenty-three books in a 7×5” space. poetry slam via video link with some guy in Finland. narratology of WOW. screen caps of everything everything. @hashtag. like comment share. send it to me. networking on the network. saying something while pointing elsewhere (see: book art, above). sparknotes saving students worldwide. 99c publication. leave a comment. twitterature. inbox me. she popped up. pingback.

‎”One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.”

One ought, every minute at least, Youtube, Tweet, Instagram, and if it were possible, Skype.

Reeling between aloneness and togetherness, and I am happy at this impasse.


Enter Sol (Sam van Zweden)

15 Feb

The birds know –

There’s no lying to them.

With the creaking of the cosmic pulley

Which brings us the sun,

Accusatory fingers of night-cloaked branches

Point to the horizon.


Enter Sol:

Fresh-faced and sparkling

Marching up the sky

Crunching across darkness –

an intruder trampling fallen leaves –

The grievous things which stick to the Night

Scurry back to their hidey-holes.



–Image by Danny Thomas