Using such a word as hoe in the same line as Fitzcarraldo seems to go against the sleek and uniformed french flaps that make Fitzcarraldo iconic (are they iconic yet?), but hoe I am, and it rhymes, so call me hoe (thot!), and be done with it. Fitzcarraldo Editions, the house that publishes everything in […]Read more "I’m a hoe for Fitzcarraldo"
The last time I swam in the ocean was (maybe) seventeen months ago. At home, Aotearoa New Zealand, a rushed dunk at dawn before driving back up to Auckland Airport to catch my flight back here (home?). Growing up in Auckland meant a childhood spent never far from the sea. We spent our summers on […]Read more "A Well of Collective Memory: At the Pond"
I have a friend on the other side of the world and we write occasional long-form emails to one another. Emails that are a delight and surprise when they PING into my inbox. Emails that I often plunder for inspiration and emails that serve as a transcript of our friendship. It was in one of […]Read more "In the mood for Too Much and Not the Mood"
Last week two fifteen year old girls asked this question — miss, does anyone actually read poetry? Yes. But what kind of answer is that from an English Teacher? And so today, the day before the day before summer, I spent my free period putting together a collection of fresh poetry for them. When I […]Read more "Does Anyone Actually Read Poetry?"
Two years ago today we lay on the floor with the lights off and listened to Lorde’s Melodrama, shot straight through with no speaking, no pauses. That bright blue and violent violet glowed in the gloom—the not-quite darkness, for the light lingers longer here in June; it pushes out the night until even at the […]Read more "Melodrama"
The cover depicts a still life of fruit, a Flemish master maybe, where desire meets decay and ripe meets rot. A still life of how feminine sexuality is seen and experienced in the world ― all at once it’s fresh and open, ready to devour and discuss and dissect, but in a moment it can […]Read more "Forbidden Fruit"
Spring arrived in the post the day I was admitted to hospital. I didn’t see it until I was lucid the next day, with tubes and needles all down my right side. Spring was bright green – so green it just sang as it sat there, and I could only look at the luminous green […]Read more "Spring arrived in the post"