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Published: Fri Oct 15 2004
Diego Isaias Hernández Méndez, Convertiendse en Characoteles / Sorcerers Changing into Their Animal Forms (detail), 2013, oil on canvas. Arte Maya Tz’utujil Collection.

All your life you tear at it, you rip it like paper.
A crossword-clue ghost, at the end it rips back. A spurred
word, it’s very fast, like sprint only no prints there—
who needs feet when the ground tilts so far beneath you,
wonderfully green yet complicated, a cross-hatching
of highways and fences, amazing! But oh for a roof
that isn’t red, red…a differently shaped pool! What’s
so pleasing about a kidney, anyway? Why ever go back
down? You bank and test the wind’s strength and make
it yours, like a plane you’re flying and you know how,
it makes sense, but where is everybody? Why are you
alone up here with this fierceness? Your bones hollow
like a bird’s, fill with light and air. You are becoming light.
You are a new singing and it is cold, colourless, and bright.

See what's inside AGNI 60

Tim Upperton’s poetry and fiction have appeared in AGNI, Bravado, Dreamcatcher, Landfall, New Zealand Books, New Zealand Listener, North & South, Reconfigurations, Sport, Takahe, Turbine, and Best New Zealand Poems 2008. He is a former poetry editor for Bravado, and tutors creative writing, travel writing and New Zealand literature at Massey University, New Zealand. His first poetry collection, A House On Fire, was published by Steele-Roberts in 2009. (updated 7/2009)

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