And I know now what I didn't know then by the Tuesday Poets
So
now you are privy to
a thousand thousand things. Jennifer Compton
The geology of the region, the path rain takes under
the earth, the black areas of nitrate. Sarah Jane Barnett
There are places yet to find
where the teeth of ancestors
still speak to us from the forest floor – Kathleen Jones
please do not dance
with the statues. Helen Lowe
I wonder what times I will choose to rescue
from a land built out of longing. Andrew M. Bell
The Canterbury Provincial Building's Cat
does not exist
but I have named him Moorhouse. Helen McKinlay
Enough. Take your feathers
dead or alive and flutter into oblivion. T Clear
He went south with the housing market
to a cottage facing the sea Tim Jones
which is not to say
that some feasts don't need ruining. P S Cottier
Goodbye takes the form of a blessing.
My family press tika on our foreheads
rupees into my palm. Saradha Kiorala
But somehow the gift was given
somehow we made it work. Harvey Molloy
It was dark and we were nearing the end of our chat, and you
said to me, I bet there are fresh flowers lying in your backseat. Bel Hawkins
You walked home from the diary
the loaf still warm
cradled in your arms Catherine Fitchett
and I now know
what I didn't know then,
that the things we despise
when young can in fact be beautiful. Kay McKenzie-Cooke
The lights threaded
their sparrow eyes across the
black sky. Leah McMenamin
Everybody in the room
is full of bonhomie. Fifi Colston
"No hea koe? No hea koe? No hea?"
"Where are you from? Where are you from? From where?" Jeffrey Paparoa Holman
A Temporary Monument. Bernadette Keating
A tuba and a man strolling through
the grass, a pretzel of flesh and brass. Bryan Walpert
Like birds, blue and brown can soar and glide.
They can spin like star motes
or flatten, like feathers in a storm. Susan T Landry
The slow delicious thaw
of an expected frost. Pamela Gordon
My yoga teacher says 'You are a baby, you are a flower,
you are stirring a giant pot.' Helen Lehndorf
He
is
a
pretty
young
thing
yes Orchid Tierney
the Magritte painting of a woman on horseback
shimmering in and behind tree trunks. Melissa Shook
I ask you, waka, ark, high altar
Above the sea, your next destination? Richard Sullivan
I lick my lips
and lean with
an affectation of slothfulness. Alicia Ponder
You left Lesotho the year of your eighteen years
and we closed like clams. Grass grew a beard
on you. Rethabile Masilo
You are not an old man and he is not a marlin but he is mighty just the same and you are
awed by his beauty. Michelle Elvy
A small old woman
knitting the whole tale
on needles of bone. Helen Rickerby
Measuring how well a person will rebound
after being dropped on is still being worked on. Keith Westwater
Alice swallows several live
goldfish. They look remarkably like tinned mandarin segments.
In syrup. Janis Freegard
You spy
the feet that twist beneath him,
thick as the roots that anchor an oak. Eileen Moeller
Why did the day break before it began?
The dream still fermenting, the sudden rain? Catherine Bateson
Just as soon,
behind us rose an amber moon,
which cast sufficient light, a golden
barley smear of light – Zireaux
my astonished belly
has lately become
a fishbowl
and you, little fish. Renee Liang
I see a courtyard there and a lemon
tree whose unbound feet turn stones
to moss, Claire Beynon
an asterisk of a cloud dissolving
in the time it takes to walk to the compost bin. Mary McCallum
The birds mostly flew too high to identify, but there
were swallows and larks. Belinder Hollyer
Gun-metal and the iron of blood was on her lips /
all morning, as the sun refused its trembling ascent. Elizabeth Welsh
Take (_____ Back Words) ~ Tender
Tender (_____ Hearted) ~ Thread Mariana Isara
How wings grow slick
and open for that years-long
maiden flight no parent can impart. Penelope Todd
The notes of Jerusalem
are bold as a bell
they rise to the vault of the ceiling. Pamela Morrison
It does not wait
for the funeral tent
nor see the lightness of green
turn to earth-brown black. S L Corsua
There is no difference between the tree and the shadow of the tree.
There is no space between light and the wave coming shoreward. Miriam Levine
Maud shall have
a glimmergowk to hoot her elegy shall nither there until the mawks
liquify her skin. Melissa Green
Who'll find me
now she's gone –
knees by ears tight
breathing all of me. Helen Heath
The jaunt
through the asphalt world did have its moments,
exotic brilliances & conspiracy corridors. But
finally, feet, recognising the opportunity while
the mind's woolgathering, swing over & out. Harvey McQueen
