Category: Past issues

1 | 2 | 3   she hoped that Jack would come up the stairs and hold her   she had heard him moving, swift on his stick and then he wobbled loosely into the room, the floor still churning, a livid sea.   poor old house clattering again – and the bricks…

It’s Rosemary Anderson!   Rosemary Anderson is a mouthful. She chases away the son of Andreas; a pigeon in the park.   ‘Rosemary Anderson!!!!!’ (Fire on the school bus?) She glides through the window courting dark.   Where does she swim to? Rosemary Anderson clings to cliffs, crusted with quartz,…

1 | 2 | 3   I ngā wā o mua . . .   there was a woman who lived in a house with a garden just before the crossing to my school. There were ornamental shutters on her windows.  The stems of her flowers danced on stilts with petals layered over…

1 | 2 | 3   Valediction for a loved one with Alzheimer’s   If you were to open a door in the air, breathe through the keyhole a radiant dram ‒ or say a dormant cutting woke in you.  Say the young vine grew in you budding with urges to be…

1 | 2 | 3   Pass the standing stone please dear   Certain words are pillars; rock, stone, granite, bread, tea.  Lamingtons   even the filled ones, cannot coconut the feelings jelly crystals and sponge- cake are known to leave behind.   Bloody crumbs. Heft some boulders on the cake stand, now…

1 | 2 | 3 | 4   Raining from everywhere         Contents | Previous Author | Next Author | About this Author

1 | 2 | 3 | 4   The road is unmapped         Contents | Previous Author | Next Author | About this Author

1 | 2 | 3 | 4   The beginning of a conversation         Contents | Previous Author | Next Author | About this Author

The Theory of Knots   ‘The secret is to find the master loop,’ says Kenny, as I look glumly at the tangle of line which has brought an end to my fishing. But I know he won’t find it himself. ‘He’s all talk,’ mum says. But Kenny pays his rent…

Here we give thanks (after Gregory O’Brien)   Because the jugs spring from the mind of Mary (or is it the angel?)   visible over the hills of the promising land, we begin   to gather them to us. Now they crouch   in the kitchen light—a crowd of well…