'Selected Poems' / Chloe Harpley

'Selected Poems' / Chloe Harpley

'Chloe Harpley is currently entering her third year of Arts/Law at the ANU. 
For her, poetry began with an English teacher. From there writing has become an organic process through which Chloe pursues the essentially irreducible qualities of feeling and spontaneous thought through her distinctive free-verse poetic form. She meditates on experimental formalism, often expressing the liberating coexistence of randomness and chance that naturally emanates from the wayward depths of her mind. As such, poetry is her way to explore and grapple with the kaleidoscopic lenses through which reality is lived.'
Her Poetry possess a peculiarly potent disarming property, lulling you into her fearlessly personal tone
thus amplifying the efficacy of her jarring shifts "like the anger is," "grip tightening," "brutal confidence" - knocking, positively smashing, the wind out of the reader's lungs and sowing the seed of an ineffable nostalgia that will nag at you for some time after reading.

Chloe is influenced by the likes of Wallace Stevens, Charles Bukowski, and Patti Smith.






into the musty air

of the clouded room


I watch

the particles

(decades of growth

yet still so small)






how brutal confidence

can quell









I cross the bridge

and turn left on Franklin

listening to the radio,

and the broadcaster tells me

that North Korea will start a nuclear war

but their people are starvingscreamingdying

and the Arab world is burning US flags in fury

because Trump signed away peace with the flick of a pen

and our corrupt politicians are selling their integrity to China

and terrorists plotted to kill the British Prime Minister in her home


and, finally, we all (in Australia) can marry


it’s a lot for a Thursday afternoon

I think to myself

grip tightening on the steering-wheel

as I drive past home

and up the hill towards sunset –






oxy brain cloud

the heart

back to ba-dum-ba-dum




head isn’t in the sink


not darting backandforthbackandforth

in the shiny bright white

in the bright white light

fuck the light is bright

my legs wouldn’t hold me

and the bones that press through

the next-to-nothing fat

contorting the ivory

already peppered with purple


against tiles

I fell



but the cloud is calm



a washed-out shade of blue


not red

not red

not deep deep red

like the anger is.

Streetscapes, Architectural and Abstract Content / Ben Walter

Streetscapes, Architectural and Abstract Content / Ben Walter

Minimalist Japanese Drawings / Audrey Fitzgerald

Minimalist Japanese Drawings / Audrey Fitzgerald