sacred logs
in the kauri kitchen
the smokey lamps
were dimmer than the candles
except for sudden
mad flaming
the small black-eyed sons
almost engulfed
adept at handling flame
the swung the lamps
as if on a ship
they wheedled sharp knives
slaughtering vegetables
hacking at logs
with little axes
stoking up the fire
until the chimney trembled
flames licking the ceiling
until it glowed
red
bringing the father down the hall
to accuse us of burning all the wood
instructing us to burn
1 stick at a time
oblivious
we burnt sacred logs
gazing hungrily at furniture.
(for krishna & julius)
black shoes in bed
on the hill behind your house
'mongst pigeons in the karaka trees
you
cut flax
you wove me a basket
you filled it with red apples
you sent it to me
you say you are going on a journey
same time last year
you returned from a journey
you went where they left turtles to die
on their backs in the sun
where people were hungry
you strolled under palm trees
dressed in white
you ate little bananas
you came back in the dying sun
i did not know your face
you lay between me and my child
we both had colds
we barked like dogs
you were surprised to see my child wearing
black shoes in bed
i write in the dying sun
i have made a clay pot
its mouth opens in a gasp
the gasp is silenced by an egg
the egg has exploded
leaving the pot
dark
burnt
looking
(to Paola)
room with black stove
the room with the black stove
was
small- bare
broken
its window- cracked
the child played in this room
on a cold night
creeping over the floor
playing
with dried oil paints
under a naked light bulb
in the corner
above a huge mirror
was a hole in the ceiling
shewing the dead leaves
of a rats nest
around the peeling walls
were pictures
by my first born
of people in 2 faces
their hands
exploding fireworks
their
eyes
whirl pools
(to Miro and Paola)
white coral cunt
when we were homeless
every house we looked at
you desired
as if
a woman offered
her rooms
spread out
i am just
a figurehead
in borrowed rooms
my flesh
has grown
i cut up cloth
with blunt scissors
thread rusty needles
with blind eyes
conduct fear
as i slice the collar
off a dying tiger coat
yesterday in a rag pickers market
i saw a white coral cunt
on a plastic dish
midst black bowler hats
mens suits
on wire coat hangers
i asked you for five dollars
to buy the coral cunt
too expensive you said
i've seen lots of these before
alone on a remorseless couch
i fondle
the white coral cunt
put it in
my glow mesh
bag
put it in
my long pink bag
put it in
my black
antique
box
Acropolis
a blood red sun hung over the harbour
summer of my 60th year
summer of bush fires
my sister came from greece
bearing a legend in the curve of her nose
she entered my courtyard
poison ivy grew in thick ropes
on the walls
my stone burial mound
piled high
with legs arms
i could not tell her
of the ghosts
the dust i honored
she spoke of the acropolis
the pathenon
she spoke of agony
some of her teeth had fallen out
a dentist had screwed bolts
into her jawbone
to hang new teeth
two gold bracelets
sang
on her thin bronze arm
she cried out
i bring freshwater pearls
for the woman
we ran forward
stumbling over
stones and crosses
the piss emptier
when you broke your ankle
you lay in a high ceiling-ed room
snakes of black hair
devouring your white body
black crutches
crossed
at the foot of your bed
behind a lace curtain
you kept a jar of piss
too small to contain
the mighty flow
i suggested you try
a tall blue glass vase
filled with black roses
i became the piss emptier
gliding down the long
ancestral hall
past death masks
madonnas
bicycles
delicately balancing
the neck of the vase
hopeing your friend
the white sphinx
would think it was
full of black rose water
rabbits tail
(for stoneking)
you ask what i do
when you are away
i lie on the couch
and imitate a girl i knew
who sucked her thumb
while she stroked her cheek
with a white rabbits tail
abortion
i
too
was
laid
on
a
table
between a whistling kettle
and an aluminium frying pan
she thrust
a knitting needle
inside me
her
florid
bosom
lolling
heaving
up
ten pound notes
the face
of
captain cook
drowning in her cleft
too much education
(for julius, stoneking and doug poole)
his head was too big
he had had
too much
e d u c a t i o n
the youngest son
said people with big heads
have a large amount
of
brain
he said
people with small heads
are
dumb
my head was small
i knew a man with a colossal head
pointed
as
he
spoke
of nouns
verbs
adjectives
he had had
too much
e d u c a t i o n
people
thought
he
was brilliant
rolling melons
in my family
no one possessed
large bosoms
mine were small and hard
later they grew
from an ardent wish
to possess melons
they rolled
on my mother's
oak table
shocking her
into removing
bread and butter
demanding to know
if i was pregnant at 48
i who had given birth
to so many
nurturing each child
to the age of 7
sorrow and guilt
accumulated
blowing up
wickedness
until she was
disproportionate
thesaurus
(for miro)
when i was 9 months pregnant
i got stuck in the lavatory
with a read and black thesaurus
after 5 hours of enforce study
i was let out
not long after this
you were born
at an early age
your vocabulary was extensive
mine was strangely applied
in dark places
my fear of being locked away
grew
amber cow
(for paola)
before you could walk
you stood
small and resolute
in my lap
milking my spurting tits
into a preserving jar
pouring it back
& forth
continuously misfiring
until there was no milk left
arrow in the heart
(for julius)
when i left new york
i carried 12 yellow moons
over the water
1 sheared beaver...
coat
memories of tribal life
arrow in the heart
2 long black coffins
bodies of my paintings
laid
inside
30 years a vegetarian
devouring crumbed soya
cutlets
out of a cardboard
box
the youngest son says
your sheared beaver...
coat
is valuable
there is a ban on
killing
beavers
don't throw it away
like you do everything else
when i left new york
i carried
12 yellow moons
over the water
1 sheared beaver... coat
memories of a tribal life
arrow in the heart
30 years a vegetarian
in sydney
fish jump out of water
show
teeth
in neon waves
