A new poem from Tim Upperton. My childhood I was Dick. I teased Anne and George. I was Edmund, betrayed my friends for a sweet. Something rotten in me. Cast out, castaway. For long years I had an island to myself. I lived on corn, goat-meat, fish. All changed by a single footprint in the … Read more
A new poem by Palmerston North poet Tim Upperton. At the Fair All these people had come to an outdoor fair. They were walking from one stall to another, inspecting the goods for sale, picking up a jar of quince jelly and holding it to the light, tipping it sideways to test the … Read more
A new prose poem by Palmerston North poet Tim Upperton. The riderless horses One evening that summer a riderless horse galloped along our road, empty stirrups slapping. We ran up the driveway screaming to our mother. Quick, inside! she said. She shut and locked the door, closed the windows. The horse tried the door handle, … Read more
Tim Upperton reviews a new collection of essays by Wellington writer Ashleigh Young. Some essayists shine a torch in the darkness, and propose a way forward. Another kind of essayist – the Ashleigh Young kind – whispers, “We are lost, we are lost. Let’s try this way,” and, taking us by the hand, leads us deeper … Read more