;
Mormon churches brinf Sesa into bright light
The white shirts and black suits and elders that
speak logically as Keith speeds down curves and bounce
a ride in Disney world near the temple that points skywards
and prim and proper walking straight living erect
off the slow winds of the slow farmland on
the outskirts of Hamilton
hamilton’s clear night makes all backache worth the trible
as one ventures out through the wooden terrace
amidst jacuzzi and prickly pebbles in the silence
of the two am gaul night
into a night with zillions
of stars
1
look i can see the bottom of taupo
Max’s Emma’s blue salad eyes
amie’s baked cakeish creamish redlips
texting heaven away from greenfield screaming
bikes that Justin likes.sea gulls object to my
talking to redhaired Irish coffee. I’m
lucky says bright green neon lips on
yellow trees and sparrow and orange
beak myna. Giggles in a distant away
from a cow dung song three leaf
clover fencing the children away from
the snow on Rupeha. clouds will not
more tonight. The indigenous will smile as
hunch back parrot mountain
sun wakes summer backs. There goes
the pirate mayna again calling me to
Napier. Let fields shine float queenstown’s
yellow hills dry winds love life killing
mother earth a warm irish song. give
me a warm kiss that i will not forget KFC
2
look i can the eyes on the mountains as
a bald Maori lady does her research on
oil. i can smell beef talo as grassnoses
my breath & I break Moses’
commandments on women. M
said i was unstoppable $ S is lovely
lady tall % full of stars in her smile
my neck’s burning natalie redskirt
as i massage chookie’s back just
back from 74 splitt ave where poms
are pleasant not pompous. No
one has to die tonight is a mutineer’s
cold gold song. My black sweater is faithful
& Emma turns & cries on every auckland
hamilton south isle. Taupo street why
do we get so personal is morgan-ators
song. 14 racing licensed in a country
against boy races. irene i can smell your
kiss that you never gave me. i love you.
3
in scotland like pigeons shadow everyone
related to wallace as red flowers sing
with white flowers outside my blind window
an emotional computer shutters talks
to a million seconds of mom’s dying
voice. my brother loves me & Ed
has decided to win a lotto lover by
a blue pond where ducks quack
at quake point sweating not bleeding
poetry need not bleed. jack it potatoes
scream soft breeze whizzing mobikes
no dampness push no clouds in land
sway sing blue piercing summer transparent
waters. i love you amie. always have
how people find true love land
volcanic proportions let lovers kiss
cry like emma as i await stephanie
book tonight 7 neha looks at rajastan’s
bleeding dusty horizons. no horseman
sings savage and the princess
nothing rises from the dunes
4
two messages from jones double clicking
chicken habit. stuff’s with me subway’s oil
cajun sauce and oregano sonali I
fought by her lemonade kitchen
is love worth three years only. what
does one think of argentenian nurses
that earthshattering scream thud
coming fucking heaven’s graffitti
terrorism. wellington woos
warm smiles in cold isles
do not forget the ducks dark song
canadian pines hurt X smile
careful we love you – the whanau
you are x alone pics sweat bebo smiles
magnified flower’s magnanimosity
magnetic friendship no one needs
to die tonight. dust in takanini spears
a grey grave henderson song. no one
needs to die tonight
5
hot pools
black pools
brown bull dogs
a world in your pools
a bull dog yelps and kisses warmth
a doctor out to kill
waikato I do not know
Solomon is cool I understand
Manguniu’s sharks and chips
Old Viagra failed red mountain
necks sisters and mothers
& a whorehouse that none use
a bay part brown part blue
gulls high and whitey
an abandoned ghosthouse
backpackers English white fish village
old Scotland away from holes
warm white burning sunlight
a distant mountain german backpacker
sleeps wakes dressed in black in night
a wooden carving hits me as cold water splashes
a huge breakfast
a small maori fire greets the northern isthmus nights
do you need some light
sulfur darkens brown the green pakeha
fields & hedge goes wild
paiha brown faded weeds chookie screams
manuka loves an angel tonight
do i need some light
ambulance and sirens
no almonds black
a marae ascent
smoke rises non stop
angel heart
hine puruto
germans come chinese hide
solomon taints a distant snow
no one knows
where ngawha leads
Visual Diary: Writing with a Camera
It's raining cats and donkeys
The camera has to be held
Closer closer closer
Slowly get closer…
I made the picture with amy's
Name explode. My first independent
Flash experience
`
What an achievement
I'm proud to be me
Fifteen hours to
The deadline
Drafts and Journal
hold that camera steady
It was a clear night and the red bus had passed the Sahyadri Mountains from Bombay to Poona. It looked like a speck, a firefly that sped on the motorway at 100 kilometres an hour. This is where Shivaji fought the Moghals in that pass where Bajirao died protecting his king. Those were the days…loyalty, valour, honesty, sincerity and all the other abstract nouns that can't be measured. I marvelled at the lake in the distance. The stars were playing catch and cook. The moon was being fickle behind
the clouds. There was a warm air flowing. A reassuring warm air with the warmth of a mother's heart that looks at her first born as the baby takes those first crucial steps. The lake must be freezing. And all the fireflies above could hardly be warm. Thank god for the fire in their bellies. Raison always has a fire in his belly. Wonder what he wants this time. It was early evening yet and the wada pau he had eaten on the motorway was charged with garlic chutney. Hot as hell. Raison on the other
hand, does not like food. He prefers tea to food and smoking to drinking. No wonder he is so skinny.
This time I must write a story that is fresh and captivating. I appreciate this class and the voice thingy. Read Witi's story…he's captured the mood to perfection.
The Start
Luckily I have the resources. I have three hundred and forty three poems on 343 on my website blueskyfox dot com. I can use a host of pictures and resources, I have created and collected.
Took a look at ready made templates for a photo presentation. Beats the idea of originality.
But first I must collect the pictures from various sites. 10 good pictures is all I need. I'm beginning to enjoy this and it's just been fifteen minutes.
My presentation will be called: where do ideas come from – where does poetry come from? That's a fantastic start. I need to cancel my interview for a teaching job tomorrow.
Great I have chosen the best six pictures but there is no pause between pictures. It's going at the rate of knots. Need to pause the picture. Give it blur effect and some words. It's a great start for a job that has taken only twenty five minutes maybe I'll sleep after all.
The Concept: Early Morning Subconscious Speaketh
Thursday, 10 November 2006 9/11/2006 9:31 a.m.
The transition from wildblueskies.com the original website to blueskyfox.com. Slide by slide. Call it the story. The story : Websites, Poetry, Ads.
Start with geocities website: loveatiger to wildblueskies to blueskyfox. Ok now that is done. The concept is clear. It needs buttons but we will look into that later, for now.
Got Godfather. The soothing italian mafiaso of a musical melodious miracle
But Macs are killing me and putting me under absolute navigational disaster. I feel like a ship driver taking his yellow submarine for a ride. And yeah, instead of automatic transition I need a click to move button.
Hey ideas I have. Flash expertise I don't
I have got a host of stuff available but am struggling for the little things. This thing that happened to me has drained me, totally. Anyway concentrate.
In 24 hours I will know Flash…A killer navigation system is on its way…So help me God.
I could have handed this assignment if it weren't for the induction yesterday. But look…I'm making excuses.
In some ways PCs are better in other ways Macs are better
Just sticking to basics so that I do not get stuck as I got in Dynamic text. Finally I kept it simple. The KISS formula that brings you back to eart and prayed to GOD>
a childish look of glee by a maori poet that has stolen almonds
in a faded red night from a smal white house that hides a marai
a little boy smiles
at a little brown crush
walkway into fernflat
through wind carved
matheson & bleeding waitangi
as a bright keri keri
weeds brown lavender purple rimu leaves
tea leaves painting white churches
another whanau member dies at 46
cigerette, whiskey more subtle than christchurch trams
humid wind smells of sea, in a distant dark field dog barks
biting winds
brotherhood roam the nights looking for a broken car
she nurses a broken soul the tear angel brown
choog choogs like a dark messiah
dark home to a sweet white death
in bombay style grease on colaba's streets
cheaper by dozen and jeans at elco markets
and the ugly juhu galli where we got our daily bread
as muslims prayed on early morns I sprawled on uncle's double bed
listening to Michael and Elvis, Rod and Shakin Stevens
grandmaa lived and the temple distributed golden sweets
and money that i bought Secret Seven's Malorie Towers with
Kamil discussed how one must never read the back page of a book
kills suspense under the pipal tree that has winter slightly warmer than
Auckland summer
waikato with it's long bright canoes flows silently dark brown cruel hidden waters
besides a yellow building's dingy tribal laugh that flows with the pumas of canada
there's magnolia in the side always wilson's magnolias but how'd we know if the river is poisoned with love
julia’s kitchen cup smiles a million lies
a canadian dry cool cool
there’s an innocent
a maturity
of bright mangoes in december
how many people do you meet
in an obscure kitchen besides
near a toilet with a knife a cup
and hot burning chillies
and know
you are going
to be friends for life
