CONTRIBUTORS

Tim Loveday

Tim Loveday is a poet, writer and baby academic living on Wurundjeri country. He won the 2022 & 2024 Dorothy Porter Poetry Awards, the 2025 Calanthe Poetry Prize and the 2023 Venie Holmgren Environmental Poetry Award, and was a finalist in the 2025 DHA, 2024 Montreal Poetry Prize, 2024 Big Australian Yarn, and 2023 David Harold Tribe Prize. Tim’s work has been widely published. He is the poetry editor at Island Magazine.

http://timloveday.com

Irre…artist… or a thousand spangled…

to whom it may con… do not be concerned… the creative director… of sales… is replacing car with project… and yes rebellion looks a little like… that middle manager who asks if you’re okay… by asking for your… number one… …

Posted in 118: PRECARIOUS | Tagged

Academic presenting masc

The legend was in the way he said legend Like ripping off a hubcap with his teeth-nail He’d crapped Tom Cruises bigger than unicorns Scored reviews on get to the chopper & plinthed the ivory Too young to think he …

Posted in 117: NO THEME 14 | Tagged

So-called Australian Made: In Response to Lycette and Fox

Thomas Lycette, View of Tasman’s Peak, from Macquarie Plains, Van Dieman’s Land, c 1823, Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide (AGSA, 2024). A quaint little dalliance on the Merry old Tasman Peak Every painting is set in England, isn’t it? …

Posted in CHAPBOOKS | Tagged ,

Tim Loveday Reviews Madison Godfrey and Caitlin Farrugia

Madison Godfrey’s 2023 collection of poetry is, as the cover and title imply, like staring into a mirror to find only the arm that holds it up – a dress rehearsal for a made-self that is trying to find its way towards an exciting and liberated life in a cis-gendered, heteronormative world.

Posted in BOOK REVIEWS | Tagged , ,

the thinning

that day my dad does not have rope. that day we try and do it with a hose. rubber lasso stretched thin as three bodies. borderline. net. that day we walk the hose across the field. the herd, yellow grass …

Posted in 108: DEDICATION | Tagged

Lines

Then, My father, Six foot two, Shoulders back And proud. With blazing hair Of orange gold And hands Like obliterators. He takes me In those quiet hours Not far, too far From sleep, Crosses me Across his chest, And sings …

Posted in 93: PEACH | Tagged