In poems, space is just as, and sometimes more, important than words. In real time, Ground Control attempts to reach my brain, finds only static. ‘The circuit’s dead, something’s wrong.’ Continue Reading →
My immediate response when I try to search the Mines of Moria of my memory is usually a 404 error, and trying to think about the whole past year crashed Continue Reading →
I write a lot to stupid things when I’ve taken zopiclone, which is a sleeping pill that makes me think I’m a creative genius when actually I’m an idiot
Found poems, sex dolls, drugged cats and robots – just another day, really.
“I don’t see the point in writing about something that doesn’t really excite you; that doesn’t get right down into the base of your spine.” – Helen Heath
One of the reasons I love National Poetry Day is that poets, by nature, are often shy skittish creatures who can most often be found in metaphorical mossy holes, muttering Continue Reading →
I wrote a response to Bryan Walpert’s book Poetry and Mindfulness: Interruption to a Journey, for Booksellers NZ.
In some ways, I am not the best person to write about this book. I am wary of taking up space with my Pākehā voice. Not everything is for me, Continue Reading →
I know, I know: don’t judge a book by its cover. But when they’re as hauntingly beautiful as this one, it’d be remiss of me not to acknowledge it. It Continue Reading →
My latest review for Booksellers New Zealand – James Brown’s Floods Another Chamber. It was a book I enjoyed technically if not emotionally.