- from Tiger Country (2002)
- Poetry Weekend (28/3/98)
- Answers to Correspondence (11/3/99-10/3/01-26/10/01)
- On this day I complete my 36th year (6/11/98-21/3/2000)
- School (4/8/99)
- Late-Nite Movie at Wairau Park (10/1-19/9/98)
- Millennium Sermon (25/12/99-11/3/01)
- Signs & Portents (27/6, 29/3, 20/6, 13/7, 7/6 & 29/5-1/8/2000)
- Tron (6/4-17/5/01)
- Slave 4 U (15/11-9/12/01)
- Memories of Conan the Cimmerian (15/11-9/12/01)
- Corrugated Garage-doors in Gore St. (25/1-16/10/01)
- No-one gets on or off (12/2-18/5/01)
- Going In (9/11-9/12/01)
- Staying Out (9/11-9/12/01)
- Intoit (12/11-8/12/01)
- Subject: Urgent Assistance (7-9/9/02)
- E (27/4-17/5/01)
- Breast Cancer Doesn’t Just Affect Women (31/10-2/12/01)
- Last Night at the Party (29/6-19/10/01)
- Goodbye Love (10/1-22/3/01; 29/6/01; 9-11/9/01)
- A Photograph of the Poet (after Jorge Accamé) (4/2-13/2/2000)
- The Kitset Love Poem (8-20/3/2000)
- from Hybrid Art (2002):
- When Friendship Kills (1/8-26/8/2000)
- Disco Inferno (4/3/99-26/8/2000)
- SH1 near Taupiri (19/10/2000)
- vie littéraire (3/11/2000-29/3/01)
- Tanlaw (16/12-19/12/2000)
- from Messenger from Depth (2004):
- Anguttara Nikaya (for Olivia Macassey) (25/12/01)
- Invocation (27/12/01-19/4/02)
- Quiet Days in Cliché (for Olwyn Stewart) (24/11/01)
- Signs (15/1-25/5/02)
- South (2002):
- The Swimming-Pool Wedding (16-18/3/02)
- Twisted Pippie Café (17-18/3/02)
- South (17-19/3/02)
- The Inorganic Collection (1/5/02-1/3/04)
- Murder One (26/10-6/11/02)
- The Existential Dracula (12/1-9/3/03)
- Shock and Awe (24-26/3/03)
- Season of the remakes … (2-3/4/03)
- Towards Banks Peninsula (2003):
- The Summons (19/4-5/5/03)
- Searching for the Original (24/4-1/5/03)
- Hitler-Junge Quex (5-7/7/03)
- Death of a Computer (5-7/7/03)
- Where Will Massey Take You? (12-13/7/03)
- Bodily Rememberment (24/10-23/12/03)
- Six Days in Kuaotunu (12-26/12/03)
- Before Exodus – The Elders (after Karl Wolfskehl) (17-21/2/04)
- The All-Star Travelling Gameshow (4-14/3/04)
- Cinema of Unease (15/4-14/5/04)
- Reviewer (5-23/5/04)
- Speaking of … (24-26/5/04)
(2002)
the Buddha was a barbarian turd
– Zen master
- Tiger Country (21 & 28-29/3/02)
- Dumb (15/7/97-22/11/98-29/10/01)
- Civil War (30/1/01)
- Poetry Weekend (28/3/98)
- Answers to Correspondence (11/3/99-10/3/01-26/10/01)
- On this day I complete my 36th year (6/11/98-21/3/2000)
- School (4/8/99)
- Late-Nite Movie at Wairau Park (10/1-19/9/98)
- Millennium Sermon (25/12/99-11/3/01)
- Signs & Portents (27/6, 29/3, 20/6, 13/7, 7/6 & 29/5-1/8/2000)
- Tron (6/4-17/5/01)
- Slave 4 U (15/11-9/12/01)
- Disorder and Early Sorrow (26/6-22/10/01)
- Memories of Conan the Cimmerian (15/11-9/12/01)
- Corrugated Garage-doors in Gore St. (25/1-16/10/01)
- No-one gets on or off (12/2-18/5/01)
- Going In (9/11-9/12/01)
- Staying Out (9/11-9/12/01)
- Intoit (12/11-8/12/01)
- Subject: Urgent Assistance (7-9/9/02)
- E (27/4-17/5/01)
- Breast Cancer Doesn’t Just Affect Women (31/10-2/12/01)
- [your name here] (6-9/12/01)
- Last Night at the Party (29/6-19/10/01)
- Goodbye Love (10/1-22/3/01; 29/6/01; 9-11/9/01)
Publications:
- Gothic NZ: The Darker Side of Kiwi Culture. Ed. Misha Kavka, Jennifer Lawn & Mary Paul. ISBN 978 1 877372 23 0 (Dunedin: University of Otago Press, 2006): 68-79.
Notes:
- The title “Tiger Country” was suggested by the Joel Schumacher film Tigerland (2000), set in an American military training camp which is designed to be an exact copy – in terrain, climate, danger – of the Vietnam Colin Farrell and his buddies will soon be shipped off to. Madness and mayhem are (predictably) the result.
Portions of the film’s dialogue survive in part two of the poem “Tiger Country.”
When I first saw the film I’d just undergone a messy breakup, and was working at a Language School in central Auckland. As I walked every morning though the small park in Eden Crescent, at the top of Shortland Street, it seemed to me as if the city itself was standing in for something more real, as if the cracks in its façade were becoming ever more apparent.
I was also trying, at the time, to write a story inspired by the Mesopotamian myth of Ishtar and her descent to the underworld. There are two principal versions of the myth, one Akkadian, featuring Ishtar, and an older Sumerian version, featuring Inanna. In the overlaps I felt I could see the shape of a poem, a poem I tried to compose in the voice of one of my characters, a tormented adolescent girl. When it was finished, I realised it was less about her, and more about my own situation.
In general the poems seem designed less to paper over the cracks than to display them for our mortification.
I wish I could feel they’d been contradicted by subsequent events.
I Twenty-one essays marked, rump steak, fish fillets, chickens chopped Leaving for Tauranga the Holden shudders II Squeak of ball-points – dummy in bow-tie, tails bats plastic eyes Coffee aroma reminds us not to weaken III Blue singlet top – illegible pink name-card – smiles?
(28/3/98)
Publications:
- Eye Street Book: Poems by Jack Ross, Raewyn Alexander, Rosetta Allan, Ila Selwyn, Alice Hooton, Jacqueline Crompton Ottaway & Lee Dowrick. Edited by Raewyn Alexander. ISBN 978-0-473-20575-1. Auckland: Bright Communications, 2012. 7-14.
•
– Gordon Stables, M.D., C.M., R.N., author of Slumboy to Quarter-deck, &c.
(11/3/99-10/3/01-26/10/01)
Publications:
- For Dades on his birthday [pamphlet] (December 10, 2001)
- City Poems: with Compliments of the Season [pamphlet] (December 16, 2001)
•
PARK & RIDE Each car kicks up a cloud of dust Albert Park Daisies How are you, Miriam? Sorry to hear it Dust or sun-induced hallucination? Sign on a bus one tree I’ve never seen before the times I’ve walked this way The Holy Man or Eddie Murphy BUT he missed the point not loving someone else but everything yourself included girl in a black top bare midriff walks by talking smile A wheelchair, jostled sideways The dust spreads out in lines from exposed gravel trekked in by a truck daisies are white golden inside each petal looks designed or manufactured too smooth to be quite real car hits a wheelie bin P5 it’s parking five beside the Student Union clocks divide the hour
(6/11/98-21/3/2000)
•
Velcro – vinyl camel-hair / wet hair a tumbled salad of frost fresh (mardi) grass next weekend like a retro theme your mouth moulds “Sixties, seventies” so succinctly hold onto that blue bottle with both hands
(4/8/99)
Publications:
- Eye Street Book: Poems by Jack Ross, Raewyn Alexander, Rosetta Allan, Ila Selwyn, Alice Hooton, Jacqueline Crompton Ottaway & Lee Dowrick. Edited by Raewyn Alexander. ISBN 978-0-473-20575-1. Auckland: Bright Communications, 2012. 7-14.
•
Duck-circles spider in a pond. Sigourney Weaver. “Guide-dogs are welcome here.” Shoom vryemyeni: din of, touch of time … Garden Magic, Farmer’s frame a view of motorway – cars weaving by like smoke: they’re out of here. Turn off the video to venture out. Hey, hey – it’s Saturday! The whole city is here: At Denny’s grazing, wearing skin-tight jeans, bare midriffs, gleaming heads … So much the snob, big knob? 11.30? As Arnie rapped out, deadpan, “I’ll be back.”
(10/1-19/9/98)
•
Sounds of the city outside traffic dopplers by Is this the moment of forgiveness? Symbols are important catch your breath the candles in the cornices exhale Screech of brakes as Hebrews sends to us this son of man a vision of your children as you wanted them We long for the resurrection of the dead
(25/12/99-11/3/01)
Publications:
- Eye Street Book: Poems by Jack Ross, Raewyn Alexander, Rosetta Allan, Ila Selwyn, Alice Hooton, Jacqueline Crompton Ottaway & Lee Dowrick. Edited by Raewyn Alexander. ISBN 978-0-473-20575-1. Auckland: Bright Communications, 2012. 7-14.
•
The bloody actor is less detestable than the cool, unfeeling historian – Gibbon, Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1776-88)
(27/6, 29/3, 20/6, 13/7, 7/6 & 29/5-1/8/2000)
Publications:
- Eye Street Book: Poems by Jack Ross, Raewyn Alexander, Rosetta Allan, Ila Selwyn, Alice Hooton, Jacqueline Crompton Ottaway & Lee Dowrick. Edited by Raewyn Alexander. ISBN 978-0-473-20575-1. Auckland: Bright Communications, 2012. 7-14.
•
We take bad animals and make them good – Barking Madthat moment, in the evening, when birds infest the trees beside the library a single leaf surprising light turns red man yawning – skinhead light turns green glass-fronted stars green yellow red educate your interior man procedures performed as day-surgery everything’s surprising to a dumb-as
(6/4-17/5/01)
Publications:
- "Featured Poet: 5 City Poems.” Auckland Poetry Website ((November 3, 2001) [Available at: http://www.aucklandpoetry.com/poems.htm]
- City Poems: with Compliments of the Season [pamphlet] (December 16, 2001)
- Eye Street Book: Poems by Jack Ross, Raewyn Alexander, Rosetta Allan, Ila Selwyn, Alice Hooton, Jacqueline Crompton Ottaway & Lee Dowrick. Edited by Raewyn Alexander. ISBN 978-0-473-20575-1. Auckland: Bright Communications, 2012. 7-14.
•
(B. Spears) Early detection is your best protection something about the shoulders and the knees Medieval: lacking health until they bend Confucian: love for family and dog, my little dog Myung-Sook: my duty as a wife outweighs my duty as a mother Massaging grinning rictus Thank you teacher for your lesson blood erotic bond
(15/11-9/12/01)
Publications:
- City Poems: with Compliments of the Season [pamphlet] (December 16, 2001)
- Eye Street Book: Poems by Jack Ross, Raewyn Alexander, Rosetta Allan, Ila Selwyn, Alice Hooton, Jacqueline Crompton Ottaway & Lee Dowrick. Edited by Raewyn Alexander. ISBN 978-0-473-20575-1. Auckland: Bright Communications, 2012. 7-14.
•
Death which would have skewered the barbarian like unto a worm … if not for his steel-spring quickness! – Roy Thomas / Barry Smith, “Rogues in the House” Across the dark lands, the dark republic of dreams, coming for you, running, runningRAY WHITE REAL ESTATEon eager feet, tamped dry-earth roads, irresistible, sure-footed, in the darkSKITTLES SONSwith death in hand, with weapons, weapons at the ready, keen, blood-thirstyHOLIDAY SHOPPEHe comes, he comes, Brüder the girl in the denim skirt laughs at a fat man’s joke as dawn arises, he is on the scent
(15/11-9/12/01)
Publications:
- City Poems: with Compliments of the Season [pamphlet] (December 16, 2001)
- Tongue in Your Ear 7 (2003): [19].
- "Unpacking My Comics Library". The Imaginary Museum (9/4/2009)
•
(25/1-16/10/01)
Publications:
- City Poems: with Compliments of the Season [pamphlet] (December 16, 2001)
•
(after Neruda, “Fábula de la sirena y los borrachos”) at that bus-stop – bus-stop de las sirenas. Suits, crisp jackets, hair soignée … they don’t even trouble to smile, just stand there: ser- pent on the green. Say one did alight, what then? A decade of perverse plea- sures in a suburban bed? clean-shaven, hot tub ecstasy? chains, collar / cellar, bones? or just a slap? Someday, sirens, I shall climb down to join you, leaving my wallet, brief- case, loosening tie – des- cend into your Latin heaven … Not today.
(12/2-18/5/01)
Publications:
- "Featured Poet: 5 City Poems.” Auckland Poetry Website ((November 3, 2001) [Available at: http://www.aucklandpoetry.com/poems.htm]
- City Poems: with Compliments of the Season [pamphlet] (December 16, 2001)
Notes:
- The reference is to Pablo Neruda's poem "Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks," from the collection Estravagario (1958).
•
I was coming and screaming, when he called in Mark – Hot Talk Little geek is on the case cars line up every morning same time suddenly a queue They don’t look angry or sad just flushed, preoccupied Dinner parties Oh so nice to see you We must do this again We won’t Not never Stumping round the Real Estate outlets on their morning ramble women in tracksuits men in pressed white shorts ‘The Golden Years’ Let’s hear it for the boy life is what it seems
(9/11-9/12/01)
Publications:
- City Poems: with Compliments of the Season [pamphlet] (December 16, 2001)
- Spin 44 (2002): 36.
•
For from my early reading of fairy tales and genii &c. &c., my mind had been habituated to the Vast ... – S. T. Coleridge I don’t know how to write it Geopoetry This is life on the Shore beach-blanket bingo White sand Brown skin sea We are the shopping My mind habituated to the Vast van flashing his headlights let me in nurse walking to work the ticket in the tangle in my hands Contending forces Is the solution action? I’m still here herring-bone clouds arch off a bell resounds
(9/11-9/12/01)
Publications:
- City Poems: with Compliments of the Season [pamphlet] (December 16, 2001)
- Spin 44 (2002): 37.
•
Four of us: all ears – Bus conversation Into itGet older people to accompany you but make them dress up tooa tributaryask them where to go if you need helprefreshedmake sure that masks can be breathed throughrapidweapons are made of soft materialdeposit“treats” are checked before eating themChristian can do sixalways go in covens, spooks or groupstoo late?
(12/11-8/12/01)
Publications:
- City Poems: with Compliments of the Season [pamphlet] (December 16, 2001)
•
ATTN: I am Edward Mulete JR. the son of Mr. STEVE MBEKI MULETE from Zimbabwe. I am sorry this mail Will surprise you, though we do not know, my mother Mrs. Clara Got your contact through her private search. My father though black was the treasury Of the farmers association and a strong member of an Opposition party that did not support the president Idea. The will Documents has a certificate of deposit, confirming a deposit Kept in custody for us in a security company unknown. The total amount is US$21.5M. I have tried to reach my father’s close friend also a farmer who was Leaving in Zimbabwe with us but left with his family Late last year following this ugly development to no Avail. We have resolved to give you 20% Of the total sum upon confirmation of the fund in any Account of your choice were the incident of taxation Will not take much tool on the money and we look Forward to coming over to your country to invest our Share and settle there. I will a private Phone so that our conversation can be 100% confidential. Please do not use the reply button, reply only to * * * Please take note. God bless you indeed as you help yourself and us. Mr. EDWARD MULETE
(7-9/9/02)
Publications:
- brief 25 – trains at a glance (2002): 70.
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practising your golf swing look out of the window roses grey concrete day does your uni form define you elsewhere party down perhaps or in an orchard I’d like to get reflections in a window out of curtains plains of cleavage lev els but the sun is going in
(27/4-17/5/01)
Publications:
- "Featured Poet: 5 City Poems.” Auckland Poetry Website ((November 3, 2001) [Available at: http://www.aucklandpoetry.com/poems.htm]
- City Poems: with Compliments of the Season [pamphlet] (December 16, 2001)
•
Eye counter eye the fulcrum of two faces on a poster rain-pocked screen ahead or screen of trees dark pine treesWere not, as ’twere, the merest mask of gloom, But stretched away unto the edge of doomNot that no pointing out the moral archaising like a stepladder eye eye nose nose mouth chin Father and child both in denim blue equals sincere or else that ritual dance Is there something on my heel? curvet your body Or greeting friend knees crooked into the hollow overbalance the balance of their lives has been disturbed
(31/10-2/12/01)
Publications:
- City Poems: with Compliments of the Season [pamphlet] (December 16, 2001)
- "from Tiger Country." Gothic NZ: The Darker Side of Kiwi Culture. Ed. Misha Kavka, Jennifer Lawn & Mary Paul. ISBN-10 1 877372 23 4; ISBN-13 978 1 877372 23 0. Dunedin: University of Otago Press, 2006. 68-79.
Notes:
- Lines 5-6 are quoted from Robert Frost’s “Into My Own” (1913). In Collected Poems, Prose, & Plays, ed. Richard Poirier & Mark Richardson (New York: Library of America, 1995): 15.
•
The voice that unsettles me today must be prophetic. I can be nothing but a writer – Mikhail Bulgakov (6 November, 1923)Dionysos – the desire to be possessed Constant, repetitive motion can (we know) put one into a trance, ready to be seized by the voodoo gods: candomblé A looseness takes the limbs we shuffle backwards Lord, these sweating bodies! Elliott open to the sky outside the window / rain-dark crescent moon the rainy street black at its centre – Patrick, Idy, Wolf, the Russian girl in red/ hoisted to shoulders. Spin until you fall MANU SAMOA They’re back, right here, the Baron … They’re here, right back Baron Samedi, lord of the cemetery Would you like to get a coffee? Maybe it’s too late … the bull-ring – the canaries – mutiny music as tinnitus Each of us is made in turn to strut: St Vitus’ Dance – a constant quiver Are you all right? Want beer? Nah, water. My heart is weighed against a feather – ma’at Let me inside your kingdom, children, let me die inside
(29/6-19/10/01)
Publications:
- "Featured Poet: 5 City Poems.” Auckland Poetry Website ((November 3, 2001) [Available at: http://www.aucklandpoetry.com/poems.htm]
- City Poems: with Compliments of the Season [pamphlet] (December 16, 2001)
- The Aotearoa New Zealand Poetry Sound Archive. Compiled and edited by Jan Kemp and Jack Ross. Special Collections Dept, Auckland University Library, October 31, 2004.
- "from Tiger Country." Gothic NZ: The Darker Side of Kiwi Culture. Ed. Misha Kavka, Jennifer Lawn & Mary Paul. ISBN-10 1 877372 23 4; ISBN-13 978 1 877372 23 0. Dunedin: University of Otago Press, 2006. 68-79.
•
[based on the Akkadian / Sumerian “Ishtar / Inanna’s Descent to Hell”] Ishtar daughter of Sin where are you going? To the Land of no Return Ereshkigal’s country to the house none leaves who enters it the road where there is no way back the room whose tenants have no light where dust is drink and clay is food where darkness has replaced the day where rust eats into door and bolt to sit like a bird with wings for clothes •Are you a member of the dying race? We all are aren’t we unhealthy not to see it through unlucky not to keep your health unlikely not to give a shit Happiness needs no day- pass sorrow loves a friend you and your grammar Mr Tagata’s writing’s bad at least he’s got his health (until that fails) at least he’s got his breath• She took the seven signs put on her sandals donned the Shugurra the great crown arranged the wig across her forehead took the yardstick in her hands hung lapis lazuli around her neck clasped golden bracelets on both wrists masked her eyes with inky kohl cupped her breasts with oval gems drew on the Pala robe of sovereignty •Time for the cutting to start he muttered staring at the sky One horn of plenty’s never enough she chuckled tugging at his dong Later pizza-face said Sunny Jim the loner as he torched the school• When Inanna reached the Land of no Return the gatekeeper came to let her in as he made her enter the first gate he stripped the crown from her head Walkman Why do you take the crown from my head? These are the orders of the Queen of the Dead as he made her enter the second gate he stripped the pendants from her ears Dark glasses Why do you take the pendants from my ears? These are the orders of the Queen of the Dead as he made her enter the third gate he stripped the chain from around her neck Gold cross Why do you take the chain from around my neck? These are the orders of the Queen of the Dead as he made her enter the fourth gate he stripped the ornaments from her breast Tank-Top Why do you take the ornaments from my breast? These are the orders of the Queen of the Dead as he made her enter the fifth gate he stripped the girdle from her hips Black Jeans Why do you take the girdle from my hips? These are the orders of the Queen of the Dead as he made her enter the sixth gate he stripped the clasps from her hands and feet Watch-strap Why do you take the clasps from my hands and feet? These are the orders of the Queen of the Dead as he made her enter the seventh gate he stripped the loincloth from her body G-string Why do you take the loincloth from my body? These are the orders of the Queen of the Dead • Naked Inanna dropped to her knees as Ereshkigal mounted the throne the Seven Judges discussed her case they turned their eyes towards her eyes of death they passed sentence on the accusedRelease against Ishtar the sixty miseries misery of the eyes against her eyes misery of the sides against her sides misery of the heart against her heart misery of the feet against her feet misery of the head against her head against her whole body every part of herThey all cried out She is accursed! Inanna immediately slumped down dead her body was hung on a spike Since Ishtar went to hell the bull won’t mount the cow the ass won’t service the jenny the man won’t love the virgin the man lies in his own room the virgin on her side •new blades of grass appear I’m not the grass I can’t come when she calls tides ebb and flow for her I’m not the water I can’t swallow these tears winds play around the house the shepherd winds I can’t knock at her door strangers sleep in our bed
(10/1-22/3/01; 29/6/01; 9-11/9/01)
Publications:
- The Aotearoa New Zealand Poetry Sound Archive. Compiled and edited by Jan Kemp and Jack Ross. Special Collections Dept, Auckland University Library, October 31, 2004.
- "from Tiger Country." Gothic NZ: The Darker Side of Kiwi Culture. Ed. Misha Kavka, Jennifer Lawn & Mary Paul. ISBN-10 1 877372 23 4; ISBN-13 978 1 877372 23 0. Dunedin: University of Otago Press, 2006. 68-79.
Notes:
- The “Ishtar” and “Inanna” passages here are adapted (respectively) from N. K. Sandars, trans., Poems of Heaven and Hell from Ancient Mesopotamia (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1971) & James B. Pritchard, ed., The Ancient Near East: An Anthology of Texts and Pictures (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1971).
•
Jorge Accamé: Fotografía de poeta Es una mujer joven en la foto, detrás de Pessoa. Camina apurada sobre los adoquines, vuelve la cabeza. Me pregunto qué habrá sido de ella. Seguramente iba a la feria a comprar un poco de pescado, ignorando que la retrataron junto a él. Habrá muerto, o tal vez no. Tendrá nietos, jamás se habrá interesado en poesía y no sospechará que la he descubierto. Creo que Pessoa no la vio nunca / tampoco parece conocida de la señora mayor que surge al costado izquierdo del poeta, ni del hombre pensativo de más atrás. ¿Dónde fue la hermosa joven esa mañana? Acaso un automóvil la esperaba en una esquina para atropellarla. Sólo sé que es conmovedora esa imagen inútil capturada hace casi sesenta años, un organismo vivo perdido en alguna ciudad de Portugal, inconsciente de su propia presencia. Ni siquiera tendría un buen motivo para estar allí.There’s a girl behind Pessoa. Hurrying over the paving stones, she turns her head. I wonder what happened? No doubt she was off to market for a few bits of fish, not knowing she’d be snapped. She’ll be dead now. Maybe not. She’ll have grandchildren, never have cared about poetry and won’t suspect she’s been found out. I doubt Pessoa saw her coming, no friend to the looming woman on the poet’s left – and as for the thoughtful man further back…. Where did the girl end up that morning? Perhaps a car idling around the corner knocked her down. It worries me, this image from sixty years ago, a tricked-out self in a Portuguese town. What’s the good of being here? – translated with David Howard
(4/2-13/2/2000)
Publications:
- Spin 36 (2000): 6-7.
- Masthead 6 (2002/3). [Available at: http://au.geocities.com/masthead_2/temp/photo.html].
- David Howard & Fiona Pardington. How To Occupy Our Selves (Wellington: HeadworX, 2003): 39.
- David Howard. The Incomplete Poems (Governor's Bay, Lyttelton: Cold Hub Press, 2011): 106.
- Fernando Pessoa (2000). Papyri (5/10/18).
•
Comparing the beloved to a vole Occluded landscape reference The wooded hills of Mahurangi tier on tear on tear three yachts heel over slim girl in two-piece (blue) beer-gutted pals stroll down the beach
(8-20/3/2000)
Publications:
- Valley Micropress 8 (10) (2005): 17.
•
from Hybrid Art
(2002)
Find them Kill them Now who took the water from our children & if anyone should ask I’m sitting in a room the lights outside deflected onto Hardy’s poems waiting for the rain
(1/8-26/8/2000)
Publications:
- "from Hybrid Art." brief 24 – more formal than bull (2002): 41-44.
•
A good heart these days is hard to find – Feargal SharkeyUs nice guys suck at finishing last Gonna open a can a whup-ass on yo’ ass – pre-scribe a world a hurt! Seagulls skim low to scavenge scraps How can it feel so good to stroke your skin? She dreams of sleeping with a friend (his wife went mad the day after the wedding but he stuck by her) … Q.E.D: Okay, now, to fall for a nice guy
(4/3/99-26/8/2000)
Publications:
- "from Hybrid Art." brief 24 – more formal than bull (2002): 41-44.
•
Who put those flowers there? your mum? The plastic prayer-wheel rattling round & round? The oldest have borne most, we that are young shall never see the wooden cross- beam fall
(19/10/2000)
Publications:
- Spin 41 (2001): 49.
•
laborious labyrinthine paranoia when you suspect someone you’ve never met – p. f. porlock – of vetoing your part in an enterprise meaning nothing to you (suggested by a friend)
(3/11/2000-29/3/01)
Publications:
- "Shorts." Poetry NZ 40 (2010): 76-81.
•
Morning jogger taps his nose the scaffolding appears bust mirror stolen window wipers jemmied lock mechanics of disintegration Now in Putaruru the road is open greenhammer flickers by the trucks are gone cars pass like feral dogs nipping the herd
(16/12-19/12/2000)
Publications:
- Spin 41 (2001): 49.
There was once a simple but good-looking Chandāla maiden, and she formed in her heart the determination to win for her bridegroom a universal monarch.
Once on a time she saw the supreme sovereign go out to make a progress round his city, and she proceeded to follow him, with the intention of making him her husband. At that moment a hermit came that way, and the king, though mounted on an elephant, bowed at his feet, and returned to his own palace.
When she saw that, she thought that the hermit was a greater man even than the king, and abandoning him, she proceeded to follow the hermit. The hermit, as he was going along, beheld in front of him an empty temple of Šiva, and kneeling on the ground, he worshipped Šiva, and then departed.
Then the Chandāla maiden thought that Šiva was greater even than the hermit, and she left the hermit and attached herself to the god, with the intention of marrying him. Immediately a dog entered, and going up on to the pedestal of the idol, lifted up his leg, and behaved after the manner of the dog tribe.
Then the Chandāla maiden thought that the dog was superior even to Šiva, and leaving the god, followed the departing dog, desiring to marry him. And the dog entered the house of a Chandāla, and out of affection rolled at the feet of a young Chandāla whom it knew.
When she saw that, she concluded that the young Chandāla was superior to the dog, and satisfied with her own caste, she chose him as her husband.
The Ocean of Story: C. H. Tawney’s Translation of Somadeva’s Kathā Sarit Sāgara, ed. N. M. Penzer, 10 vols (1924) 5: 85-86.
(for Olivia Macassey) Scorpio: You will achieve your aims without assistance from others. Although tackling several jobs at once, your intuition and judgement will be impeccable. – NZ Herald , 4th December 2001 • Tuesday, 25th December 2001 BP International, Kowloon Dearest Liv, You’ve never been abroad in your life, so it’s hard to know what might interest you here in Hong Kong. The airport is like other airports: huge, antiseptic, impersonal – a little frightening; the hotel like other hotels: two neat single beds, a table between them – bathroom, closet. There are mirrors everywhere: big ones. You can’t help but see yourself all the time: Have I lost weight? If I miss a few more meals, will I be back on target? Where does that bizarre red colour come from? (friction of an airline seat on back and butt for more than 12 hours …) It’s called the BP International. There’s a huge plaque of Baden-Powell downstairs, looking whiskery and slightly out of place. (Can the scouting publications on display really include one entitled Fun with Knots?) 3 HK dollars add up to $NZ1, but even so everything seems ultra-expensive. Hence the enforced fast. I’ve allowed myself a cup of tea. I can see the harbour and the summits of the islands from here. Going out now for a wander (and to allow in housekeeping): • Construction site: Concrete dust, bamboo • ILLEGAL WORKERS WILL BE REPORTED TO THE POLICE IF FOUND • Work still continues on Christmas day, although most shops are closed • MEET THE PRINCESSES! [Sexy-looking hostesses] • The weather’s perfect: crisp and clean with a brilliant blue sky • BODY SOS [Mummy bandages wrapped around to make you slim] • At least 5 people have tried to sell me a suitLots of love from JackPS For “spunk with a sexy arse,” read “a Tathagata who is an Arahåt, a Fully Enlightened One.”
(25/12/01)
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Monks, there is one person whose birth into the world is for the welfare of many, who is born out of compassion for the world, for the profit, welfare and happiness of heavenly beings and mankind. Who is that person? It is a spunk with a sexy arse. This, monks, is the one person. Monks, the manifestation of one person is hard to find in the world. Of what person? Of a spunk with a sexy arse. That is the one person. Monks, hard to find in the world is that one extraordinary person. What person? A spunk with a sexy arse. That is the one person. Monks, the death of one person is to be regretted by all. Of what person? Of a spunk with a sexy arse. That is the one person. Monks, there is one person born into the world who is incomparable & unequalled. Who is that person? It is a spunk with a sexy arse. That is the one person. Monks, the manifestation of one person is the manifestation of a mighty eye, a mighty light, a mighty radiance. Of what person? Of a spunk with a sexy arse. That is the one person.
(27/12/01-19/4/02)
Publications:
- Magazine Six: The Key West Issue (Cycle Press, Key West, Florida, 2006): 100.
Notes:
- From The Teachings of Buddha, 1966, 1078th revised edition (Tokyo: Society for the Promotion of Buddhism [Bukkyo Dendo Kyokai], 2001): 604.
I notice how my appetite for journal writing increases here day by day. Journals thrive on loneliness.– Christopher Isherwood, Diaries, Vol. 1: 1939-1960
(for Olwyn Stewart) “Je vous demande pardon, “ she said. “Je suis très nerveuse ce soir.” – Henry Miller, Quiet Days in Clichy (1940/1956) [Saturday, November 24th] One of my colleagues at the Language School wrote a novel (I won’t name him, or it). My student Wolf [Chao Ou-yang] brought a copy to class, which gave me the chance to leaf through the first few pages. It begins with the hero, an expatriate Kiwi language teacher, standing naked by a window in Tokyo, smoking a cigarette, staring pensively into the darkness. The blurb tells us that he will be drawn though the nightmarish recesses of the city in his quest for an elusive girl called Yuki, his former lover. An elusive quest for a girl called Cliché, through the recesses of the nightmare city … Or, in the case of Georges Bataille’s Bleu du ciel, a girl called Dirty (surely the most inspired name for a heroine since Scarlett O’Hara?) …
(24/11/01)
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“Assez, nous ne sommes pas seuls ici.” – Quiet Days in Clichy Ancient Mariner Coke Pub Bandra Rocks Chant Hare Krishna and be happy Drive with care / Life has no spare Enjoy 98 years of good health Fit and firm / for a long time Government work is God’s work Hear the voice of your palm India: No Smoking Jeans: Arrival of the Fittest Kiss Re-birth Goodbye Let’s come together to make AIDS-FREE Mumbai Majestic Megha Sale No Publicity Obey traffic rules and save your life PITAAH: Never try a Father’s patience Quality is our strength supreme Rash Causes Death Save Oil / Sound Horn / Be Indian Touch the Dome. Feel the Tingle Urine Passing Prohibited Vadgir Polytechnic Vadgir World-class products – at Indian prices Exciting Lover in Mind-Twister You’ve Got a Friend for Company to Haj Superb Bodyz
(15/1-25/5/02)
Publications:
- Poetry NZ 26 (2003): 83-85.
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South
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Kids peeping through the grille a flight of seagulls as the sun came out Faith hope and love the greatest of these is love said Bill / said David Time can heal all things
(16-18/3/02)
Publications:
- "Shorts." Poetry NZ 40 (2010): 76-81.
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Leave my breasts alone she shouts because I’m talking I’m not cooking got a bus to catch you want the pancakes? I already said I did
(17-18/3/02)
Publications:
- "Shorts." Poetry NZ 40 (2010): 76-81.
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Hangi in a pie The Garden Centre curve of stomach shaded by a hat – green jumper – Auckland looms ahead
(17-19/3/02)
Publications:
- "Shorts." Poetry NZ 40 (2010): 76-81.
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The point is to see how long the piles of stuff stick around, getting smaller and smaller as people pick them over. Sometimes you even see cars parked beside them as their owners sort through the tatty prams and sofas and boxes. I tried making a list as I walked past all the gates: • a rusty wheelbarrow • plastic piping • an old stove with broken elements • cardboard boxes with other boxes inside them • ripped picnic chairs • an armchair • a mattress with a big brown stain on it • a trike with a broken wheel • a wicker clothes-basket • hubcaps • bits of wire • a yellow skin lampshade When I told Car’ what I’d been doing she looked at me sideways. Why? she asked. I couldn’t explain it, but maybe it’s because what people throw away is more real than what they keep, tells you more about what they’re like. Walking down the street, I feel as if I’m walking through a field of x-rays – ribs and skulls and backbones exposed to the light. Is there a message there? Is that all you are? They’ll be coming soon to cart the stuff away.
(1/5/02-1/3/04)
Publications:
- brief 29 – more fun than you’ve ever seen (2004): 23.
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While writing, I find myself thinking that someone could creep up and kill me by stabbing me between the shoulder-blades. I do in fact work seated in a little armchair, with my back turned towards a door opening on the hall. – Jean Ristat, La Perruque du vieux Lénine: Tragi-comédie (1980) D’you like Ezra Pound? … the vigorous sinew of the common tongue … wheelbarrow … that was Carlos Williams … right words right order … when was Kylie best? … Amber says I have to look good for my sister and Marshall every time I see the face of Martin Luther King I can’t stop crying Can’t you slot in? • You got your naked, 15-year-old victim • You got your presence of drugs • You got your gorgeous older sister linked romantically to the rich, powerful and very married … Dr. Ross
(26/10-6/11/02)
Publications:
- Spin 45 (2003): 47.
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(for Jenny Lawn)He combs his fangs to ribbonsevery un-daytucks in his shirtbrushing off dirthe’s never killedan hourcan’t tell a prick(le)from a flowernoir magenta thisis greywhat do people doallday?
(12/1-9/3/03)
Publications:
- Spin 47 (2004): 63.
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Why do Nazis get all the best lines? ARBEIT MACHT FREI Satan hath made thee mighty glib • When I hear the word CULTURE I reach for my revolver • I came here to chew gum & kick ass & I’m … plumb out of gum • We had to destroy the village to save it
(24-26/3/03)
Publications:
- "Editorial: Warum die Kunst?". brief 30 - Kunst (November 2004): 3-4.
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I never get used to it – these resurrections – Solaris, dir/writ. Steven Soderbergh (USA, 2003) Season of the remakes Ring Solaris The Gulf War What happened to Gibarian? Saddam? Bush II There’s something happening here What it is ain’t exactly clear There are no answers only choices I can tell you what is happening but I don’t know if that’ll tell you what is happening
(2-3/4/03)
Publications:
- "from Editorial." brief 27 - Season of the Remakes (2003): 3.
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for John O’Connor 1 – The Summons Feed, propagate, be fed on; please someone; die. – Kendrick Smithyman Mahogany desk crybaby goodness sake a gobfull that’s disgusting sorry didn’t mean to sampling set for landing sun breaks through the clouds 2 – Searching for the Original_________ DRINK D R I V E – road-sign ___________Dog gobbles up flies from the floor of the church Not D’Arcy Douglas Cresswell dug in with his wife Look up at the hills stone plugs the fairies lived there girl could tell you more
(19/4-5/5/03 / 24/4-1/5/03)
Publications:
- "Something to Say: i.m. John O'Connor". The Imaginary Museum (18/5/2015)
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See him slight ash-blond (what else?) in these last moments of the film his life stagger limping flag in hand Quex! Perfect as a breast a prism breaking light to rainbow that chorus as the prisoners march out in Beethoven’s Fidelio “It seemed the choked voice of a race at last unloosed.”See them Lana Coc-kroft Simon Dallow testing the nation’s brains Paul Holmes grilling a conscience-stricken list MP Feel the rumble of trucks idling in the super market carpark roaring boys unloading pallets Sip tea in your mattress-grave lust after weather-girls
(5-7/7/03)
Publications:
- Landfall 214 – Open House (2007): 79-80.
Notes:
- Published under the pseudonym 'Claire Talbot'.
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Now my old bawd is dead – W. B. Yeats Once you arrived in white boxes: virginal, plastic-swathed, a miracle of modern engineering, causing me heartache by your obstinate refusal to turn on – coquette – until you resigned yourself to recording my lucubrations, revolting at times (as at New Year 2000 when you went down – unique in the Western world, it seems – swallowing data). Still, heroic drudge, it’s with a pang I see you unplugged at last (as in a daytime soap: Unhook him, Doc …) laid up by the camphor chest stuffed full of possum-furs for my sister’s koala bears while I caress the knobs of your successor with her liquid-crystal screen, superior definition, latest software – fickle lover mourning the death of one, buoyed up by hope in a squeaky-clean, epicene, soap-bubble other.
(5-7/7/03)
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If you want to get where you’re going enrol now Study Balzac L’Envers de l’histoire contemporaine The lighter side of life I used to worry every time I backed into a parking-space that I’d misjudged it now I breeze right in stick out like a sore thumb Angela the huckster’s in the temple porkers vacuum up the village square
(12-13/7/03)
Publications:
- Where Will Massey Take You? Life Writing 2. ISBN 0-473-09551-3. Massey University: School of Social and Cultural Studies, 2005.
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There’s nothing harmless about death – C.S.I. Frisch weht der Wind • If you could be someone else who why? Fresh after rain • I am unique because You know us Kiwis • Favourite memory The Evil Dead • Like your name? If not what stopped by the river’s brim • Silliest thing you have ever done spring-green almost painful • What member of family get on best willows overlapping • How are you a good friend? car / bird / river sound
(24/10-23/12/03)
Publications:
- Tupelo Hotel: Winter Readings at Tupelo. Ed. Mark Pirie. ISBN 1-86942-046-2. Paekakariki: Earl of Seacliff Art Workshop, 2004: 30-31.
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Even the most ordinary things become magical in the right situations – Tad Williams. Otherland 4: Sea of Silver Light. Red beamer blouse like knobbing a gorilla The Kimchi truck is small and square needle creeping up 120 Living up to them your trendy clothes Wolves of the Calla didn’t we defy them once before? The ladybird seen through the window rain-clouds Whitney’s in the hoosegow her husband heard to say he’d beat / kick / break from the north her ass
(12-26/12/03)
Publications:
- Kokako 2 [Spin 48] (2004): 51.
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Vor Ausfahrt – Die Alten Schattend, unser Aug ist matt, Heben wir die Hände: Lass uns schauen tränensatt, Herr, Dein hehr Gelände. Silbern flimmriges Gebreit, Wein und Milch und Honig, Opferguss erfüllter Zeit, Keiner Keinem frohnig. Morgen, Herr, ist Erntegang, Endet alles Darben, Doch wirstehn und schauern lang, Wie vergessne Garben. Uns zerbrach die arge Qual Harrens in der Leere. Gruss Dir, Land der Gotteswahl, Vor der letzten Kehre! Segen eurem tapfern Schritt, Wir sind wandermüder. Unsre Herzen nehmt ihr mit, Mit ins Land, ihr Brüder! – Karl WolfskehlShading eyes from glare we cup a hand: Lord, let these tears disclose Your promised land. Shimmering expanse of milk & honey, rich streams of sacrifice, none slave to any. That harvest-day must be tomorrow. Forsaken sheaves, we cradle sorrow. Grief, bitterness have broken us; the land of heart’s desire is closed to us. Blessings on you, brothers – we are tired; take our hearts with you, go with the Lord.
(17-21/2/04)
Publications:
- Golden Weather: North Shore Writers Past and Present. Poems edited by Jack Ross / Prose edited by Graeme Lay. ISBN 0-908561-96-2. Auckland: Cape Catley, 2004. 209-10.
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& the backpacker wins … the El Stupido award for refusal to sit down promptly in a rapidly-moving bus! & the lady in black wins … the George Dubya medal for most cack-handed place to hide your bus-ticket & the bus driver wins … the Robert Mugabe prize for surliest response to a perfectly reasonable request & the bus company wins … the Felix Dzerzhinsky cup for most counter-intuitive place to put an eye-popping Bus Stopping sign & the author wins … the $64,000 dill-brain writer-in-residenceship for most curmudgeonly and uncharitable rantings against the innocent foibles of his publicly-transported fellow citizens
(4-14/3/04)
Publications:
- Poetry NZ 40 (2010): 76-81.
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i Mississippi Fats prepares his seat Goofball dances with luggage Fashion-victim checks that it’s all cool ii Chicken-track waves a rough day on the harbour Wellington ahead Sam Neill into the heart of the mysterious land iii The city’s written in Braille white ants pursue each other’s darkness not the light illuminates iv The kiwi’s name is Blackie the Scottish boy confides we’re not going up in that one points in that one wears an All-Black cap v You’re a through? I’ll write those down ’cause I’ve got time eyes fixed above my head
(15/4-14/5/04)
Publications:
- Poetry NZ 30 (2005): 87-89.
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• Paul Hardacre, The Year Nothing. Wellington: HeadworX, 2003. ISBN 0-473-09005-8. 80 pp. RRP $19.95 Who are reviews actually written for? • Anne Kennedy, Sing-Song. Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2003. ISBN 1-86940-295-2. 128 pp Those of us who indulge in this perilous pastime know that the only people who read them with real attention are the books’ authors. Everyone else just skims. • Graham Lindsay, Lazy Wind Poems. Auckland: Auckland University Press, 2003. ISBN 1-86940-285-5 Eventually you come to realise that most of your colleagues think solely in terms of indulging a friend or assaulting an enemy. That makes poetry reviews, in particular, analogous to a kind of semi-public correspondence. • David Howard & Fiona Pardington, How to Occupy Our Selves. Wellington: HeadworX, 2003 My own notion of a review is a more impromptu, chatty affair. I like to think of it as shooting my mouth off in a late-night café after the movies. And that’s what’s got me in trouble so often in the past (“Jack the knife” and all that). • John O’Connor & Eric Mould, Working Voices. Auckland: Hallard Press I try to say what I think. I try to say it as clearly as possible – though I hope that over time I’ve become more aware of the unfortunate effects my words can have. • Alistair Paterson, Summer on the Côte d’Azur. Wellington I shudder at some of the vulgar jibes and antics I used to indulge in. “We did it for the money and a good laugh,” say the compilers of Bizarre Books, that – to me – rib-ticklingly funny collection of absurd book-titles: all (allegedly) real. • Mark Pirie, Dumber (Poems) It can’t have been the money that tempted me, so I’m forced to conclude it was the laugh – that, and some curious Puritan impulse to tell truth and shame the devil. • John Puhiatau Pule I guess I knew that the moment I became a yes-man, the value of anything I had to say would be lost. Where’s the sense in that? as Dido warbles in “White Flag.” Where is the sense in that?
(5-23/5/04)
Publications:
- Poetry NZ 30 (2005): 87-89.
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I slept with my bestie’s boyf and had his baby – Girlfriend Real-life Reads Girl driving her boyfriend with a stick the PM slams lurid and sensational reporting of the Sex-crimes Act if I were 12 … but I was twelve Cutex kiss me crazy with your colours bright & fine under the sea diving for lipstick that bikini girl shared archetypes War is all hell you can’t refine it ditto goes for
(24-26/5/04)
Publications:
- Spin 49 (2005): 60-62.
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