Elizabeth Morton

What Blooms Beneath a Blood-Red Sky: A Year in Aotearoa Poetry

Poetry is booming in Aotearoa, and nobody can quite say why. What’s stirring our blood in the plague years / this sixth mass extinction / our deteriorating climate of political and literal atmospheres?

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the toppled woods were beautiful – palm needles, car tires, bark and heat. ash-plumes tickling the armpit of sky, cloud ribboned like cassette tape. we found Ozymandias submerged in a century of polymers, the gadgetry of bored children – playstations, …

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