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Possibilism
In this poem remembering a tramping trip in the South Island, Anthony Baker writes about meeting someone and feeling a whole world open up.
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Hugo
Josiah Morgan’s friend Hugo once said, “For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to reincarnate as a seagull. Live on a rock with all my friends, squawk shit, fly around, steal peoples chips. That’s gotta be my dream. Can you imagine how great it would feel.” This is a poem about that. Kinda.
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Centurian (2023)
In this poem, Jason Lingard recalls a trip to a gay sauna that is both passionate and a bit awkward.
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Everywhere I go I leave little piles of sand
That was the summer we all got sickgutters flooded with wattle and pine I lived in constant readiness to see a sea lionstraining to sight the waves from my deckstayed up too late sucking the heat from the wallsthank godyou can look at the moon without being blinded I remember the Garden of Edenand life…
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This is not about Chilli and Wendy from Bluey
A poem from Natasha Hope-Johnstone about sapphic yearning and rage at 2:00 pm on a Saturday while drinking tea somewhere in the suburbs of Meanjin/Brisbane.
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The mating dance of otters
Josh Hopton-Stewart’s evolving relationship with body hair bubbles to the surface and he calls on his otter brothers to wear their fuzzy pelts with pride in his first piece for bad apple.
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*Bigots in Training
Wondering if we have ever been truly free in play, olive (blyth) looks at the genealogy of ideology.
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I Know How to Enter A Conversation
The world comes into view in minor and the major in this bad apple debut from Ella Quarmby.
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At the time, pure agony
Brooke Soulsby recalls an instance of great confusion between romantic and platonic feelings. Possibly a consequence of reading too many problematic YA romance plots from the early 2010s? She is grateful for a fully formed prefrontal cortex.
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LUCKY STAR
From Loretta Riach, ‘Lucky Star’ is a devotional poem to the enduring effects of watching Alien (1979) for the first time in year twelve media studies. Also: Sigourney Weaver in her undies.
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I have started having dreams about the world ending.
Maia Armistead writes of catching dusty butterfly wings in her mouth at the end of the world for her bad apple debut.
Category: poetry
In a dream, you saw a way to survive, and you were filled with joy.
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