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.  http://www.livingimagesdesign.co.nz/

The cheese factory and cafe we visited is here  http://www.matatokicheese.co.nz/

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