Monday, October 15, 2012

Leaving the Place of a Thousand Lovers Tamaki Makaurau

the apocalypse is subtle
grey new territory where she's no idea what could happen
next - interior travel like wakeful dreaming
'smile at fear' a famous artist quoted in a magazine

queen city Auckland where she dance moves
a play blue car turns the southern motorway sci-fi
alone laughing getaway with her latest imaginary friend
(been inventing company for good since Amrka)

a New York City kite last spring
but now she's chanting local landscape to inhabit
loneliness a traditional past-time and grand craft
silence could fog the place - bring the sky too down

spring birds dart the road crossing top speed traffic
she sees him in the back seat like a privileged wayward child
fluffy clouds ahead stacked in order of importance
startling blue above as clear as an idiot's conscience

he asks a question cheek-innocent - where are we now?
o this is where stud farm daughters sip through polo
and woolsheds sell soy latte decaf cappuccino
nearing Manurewa the turn off to Clevedon

subtle shades of wealth attempt camouflage
but for extraordinarily well-kept fences
intense green naivety could blush not owning
they're somewhere between ocean and eggplant

rolling pasture with white fence battens nailed
horses require visible height and limits - doesn't any sensitive?
a hush of knowing how noisy loss becomes otherwise
these lullaby streets and their cradle names

leading to bare masted ships moored near the horizon
forgetting asphalt with Kawakawa Bay
loose mollusc bone banks of cockle shells
rain cups pastel skitter and underfoot grind

where is he now in her rescue of make-believe?
invented stories to save air-fares and shock
but could they crunch about this pale streaked beach
discuss Russian authors in their strange recognition?

her imagination, his charm and impossible numbers
veils of thought their purdah and choreography
reinventing who they are daily like a newspaper
distance self-defense against artist ninjas

anyone who wishes may believe they're here
while she curls this car lone into fern and more dense green
the hill road follows a snaky tarred route
foothills and farmland and fir

snaps black creosoted house and barn so definite
an occasional theatre of lilies and pasture
some seasons the stones here talk of fires
forgetting their tumble under ancient glaciers

people may also prefer to disremember icier days
mists and breezes go on for hours regardless
sensory organ rivers to our inner seas
spear-headed pine-tops are waiting for what?

the braid edge road ribbon
a series of lush green garments
the body of land spring-dressed
calm and pleasant which may continue

shell-shocked or frantic players welcome here
subside while rounded grey stones persevere
imagine joy could turn them into wings
acceptance of best and worst a relief map

these shores are the emotions between
a gentle firth where water rests and laps
before the hot springs past the bird sanctuary
a plan of experience includes steam

new Kopu Bridge bulge before the Thames road
(how fearfully the old bridge shook
bump bump bump a language we didn't want to learn)
technology as smooth as a con-artist 

Thames built on gold rush and shipping
some of these quaint houses could sing once
their voices raised into the night with strikes
a clang upon fortune's occasional cast iron proof

then a long dark tunnel of dead camera battery later
the curly highway to Whangamata and Whitianga
destination gate swing to a gravel drive curve
sleepy cats, old friends and a black corrugated iron barn

where do years go and all this talking?
we hope our children also wonder
raise eyes skyward when birds call from the valley
talk in the spa pool at night and rescue moths

cheese makers further south
cafe attached for travellers to believe again
journeys also operate over a table
every conversation turned a giant key

recently she moved into a new mind
where these trips occur and agreement
the strangeness of harmony after wilderness
who ever knew goodness could feel extreme?

 inside an arched blue room rebuilding
the subconscious mind vaulted and velvety
friends keepsake others in messages
now and then a touch to believe we're real

before she slept her friends flew close to hold
spoke through darkness their muffled hopes alight
let some tears go safe from drowning
laughed their buoyancy's return and rafts

oared or waved towards bridges
believed this is what always matters most
coming together to clasp and let go
flawed and repaired our beautiful nonsense


At Miranda Hot Springs I noticed a welcome change to their brochure, visitors can sponsor a native tree. I will be buying trees to cover the carbon cost of this trip, shall keep you posted.


These photographs and more shall be posted on my facebook with captions eventually, however they were each taken during a road trip from Auckland NZ to Miranda (Hauraki) Hot Springs via Clevedon and the coast road, then to Thames and at last, into the Coromandel Peninsular, October 2012 - thanks to Annie and Terry for a lovely visit. They make stunning furniture and homewares, amongst many other activities. The fireplace is not theirs, (the image finishes this blog post) but it gives you a good idea of their style, the trugs and picture blocks are theirs, below.

The cheese factory and cafe we visited is here

Arohanui tatou katoa - great love to us all and our families, friends and communities on this planet Earth our only home x

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