Morea 1 & Morea 2, by Kim Rance DAISY’S WORLD JULIE RYSDALE MOTHER JO CURTAIN On the edge of the Pacific Ocean, Mother waits one thousand years in shrouded majesty rising through the earth, her love trickles down in … Continued
By Stephane Vander Bruggen. I was standing on the podium, holding the winner’s cup in both hands and looking up at the sky. This one is for you, Pépé (Grandpa). I could not stop a tear from rolling down my … Continued
By Sioux Patullo. I was seen by no one today. No one was witness to anything that I did, nor heard anything I had to say. Maybe the neighbour spied me taking out the rubbish but took no notice. I … Continued
Untitled 3, by John Bartlett UNTITLED JO CURTAIN The Artist is born in a summer storm, under thick colossal clouds gathering above the Pacific Ocean. The Artist has no mother, no father, no siblings to guide them, only the … Continued
TRANSGENDER DAY OF VISIBILITY Trans people are being targeted… not because we lack, it’s because we love. And we have the audacity to love the parts of ourselves that other people hate in themselves. (Alok Vaid-Menon) Trans Day of Visibility … Continued
This is an edited excerpt in two parts, from Polly Bennett’s PhD Thesis, “Roller derby changed my life” (2020), which explored how radical, athlete-led sport like roller derby, can provide a break from daily experiences of exploitation and constraint. Below … Continued
By Polly Lisa Bennett. This is an edited excerpt in two parts, from Polly Bennett’s PhD Thesis, “Roller derby changed my life” (2020), which explored how radical, athlete-led sport like roller derby, can provide a break from daily experiences of … Continued
By Polly Lisa Bennett. The gymnastics beam as metaphor The beam was not my choice. I did not choose to be good at it. It chose me. The bars were my choice. The flow, the rhythm, the swing. So … Continued
24 January Just over a year ago I moved into Geelong West. At the time I wasn’t sure what was next. I just knew I didn’t want to go back to my Footscray flat or Melbourne. As my friends … Continued
By Martin Smith. Last night, my pop, Jack Declan, dropped by for a visit. ‘Hello, my boy,’ he said. ‘I’ve been waiting for your REM cycle to kick in.’ ‘Hi, Pop,’ I said. ‘How’s Heaven?’ He sat grey-haired and … Continued