A poem from Reihana Robinson’s new collection Her Limitless Her

 

I want you back

 

I want you in the kitchen

I want you peeling

I want you darning

I want you preening

I want you giddy in the morning

 

 I don’t proclaim innocence

nor do I curse but

I was handpicked so claim

feral privilege

 

if I croon if I bare my fangs

if I initiate preliminaries

if I climb the hillside of wild horses

and hidden tomo and broken apple boxes

and topiaried cherry trees and spiky

gooseberry bushes and half-cut potatoes

plunged in behind the shovel …

 

I may delve to the core

goose fat spilling from

 the slippery corners

 of my mouth

 

just in time to catch

your thin bones

your failing flesh

your jagged surges

your scintillant breath

 

©Reihana Robinson  Her Limitless Her  Mākaro Press (HoopLa Series) 2018

 

 

Artist and award-winning poet Reihana Robinson lives part of the year in Coromandel and part of the year in the United States. This is her second collection of poetry.

 

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Paula Morris awarded 2019 Katherine Mansfield Fellowship in Menton, France

 

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Author Paula Morris was teaching an MA class at the University of Auckland, when her mobile phone rang and as it was a Wellington number she didn’t recognise, she stepped outside to take the call.

Minutes later, she had to return to the creative writing class and resist the temptation to tell her students – and the rest of the world – that she would next year travel to Menton, in the South of France, as the 2018 Katherine Mansfield Fellow.

Weeks of secrecy end today, with the Arts Foundation officially naming Morris as the recipient of the prestigious residency, which allows a New Zealand writer to live for up to six months in Menton. While there, writers have access to the writing room in Villa Isola Bella where acclaimed NZ author Katherine Mansfield once lived.

 

Full details

 

 

 

 

 

 

A poem from David Eggleton’s new collection: Edgeland and other poems

 

Identity Parade

The man who fell to earth
The man who gave birth
The man who stole the sun
The amazing transparent man
The incredible shrinking man
The flying disc man from Mars
The man of a thousand faces
The man who knew too much
The man who saw tomorrow
The man who was Thursday
The man with the deadly lens
The man they couldn’t hang
The most dangerous man alive
The man who died twice
The man with the oxblood leather brogues
The man who never was
The man who never returned
The man who was not alone
The man named Dave
The man in the shadows
The man who made way
The man who was in a rush
The man who mistook the moon for a candy bar —
a dream for a Cadillac
a riverbed for a road,
a flowerbed for a home,
a treetop for a diving board,
— that man.

 

 

©David Eggleton Edgeland and other poems  Otago University Press 2018

 

 

David Eggleton is a poet and writer who lives in Dunedin. Earlier this year he held the Fulbright-Creative New Zealand Pacific Writer’s Residency at the University of Hawai’i at Mānoa.

Otago University Press page

 

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The Spin Off’s 2018 list of excellent poetry books from NZ and overseas

List of excellent poetry books from 2018 chosen by Steve Braunias, Bill Manhire, Courtney Smith and me. Such a good year for poetry not all best books can fit.

Yeah to all the poetry presses in NZ who take risks and keep publishing poetry. Thank you! And the bookshops that put poetry on their shelves. And the festivals that slot in poets. And the readers who keep loving local poetry books. Thank you!

 

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A poem from Owen Marshall’s new collection, View from the South

 

Insect in Amber

 

My father had a piece of kauri gum with
an insect entombed within its amber glow.
A slender fly, buckled in futile agony
as the resin gradually engulfed it and set
fast. He kept it on his desk, a talisman
from a Wekaweka boyhood and an oddity
no doubt. Hundreds of years may well have
passed since this incidental tragedy within
the cloistered Northland bush, yet thin, black
lines of the body are preserved within the
jewelled translucence that caused its death.

 

 

 

©Owen Marshall View from the South  Penguin Random House 2018

 

 
Owen Marshall, novelist, short story writer, poet and anthologist, has published over thirty books. Awards include the Deutz Medal for fiction, the New Zealand Literary Fund Scholarship in Letters, fellowships at Otago and Canterbury universities and the Katherine Mansfield Memorial Fellowship in France. He is an Officer of the New Zealand Order of Merit for services to literature, a Companion of the New Zealand Order of Merit, and has received the Prime Minister’s Literary Award. He is an adjunct professor at the University of Canterbury.

 

Penguin Random House page

 

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12: A collective of women writers

 

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Lynn Davidson is part of this online collective

I really like this idea – I wonder if we could do the same here?

 

 

’12  is a collective of women writers using a shared Google document to post monthly poems in response to one another’s writing. The collective originally formed at the request of Sophia Hao, curator at Cooper Gallery in Dundee, in order to create work echoing the collaborative Feministo Postal Art Event of 1975-77. For that project, women made art at home and posted it to one another, generating home-based art collections and a tight-knit community of women artists.

The poets in the collective so enjoyed writing in a safe and easily accessible space, with a simple constraint and support garnered from working alongside and in response to one another’s creativity, that they decided to continue. One poet writes a lead poem each month and the others each post a response. The writers in the original collective were Tessa Berring, Anne Laure Coxam, Lynn Davidson, Georgi Gill, Marjorie Lotfi Gill, Jane Goldman, Rachel McCrum, Jane McKie, Theresa Muñoz, Alice Tarbuck, Karen Veitch and JL Williams. Since then, Rachel McCrum and Karen Veitch exchanged places with Em Strang and Lila Matsumoto.’

 

 

 

 

Poetry Shelf Monday Poem: Jennifer Comptom’s ‘i smashed my head’

 

i smashed my head

 

 

in a circle before ballet class

hand in hand

with girls in candyfloss slippers

and little wraparound skirts

 

someone gave my hand a good pull

down i went

 

an odd thwack

it hurt but

i jumped up

differently

 

i had given my head

a fantastic crack

let something out

let something in

 

later that night i sat shivering by our fire

odd thoughts were ranging through me

our mother noticed i was

differently

she put me to bed

but

 

i woke up

to the morning

leaping through the window

differently

 

©Jennifer Compton

 

‘i smashed my head’ was published in Rabbit.

 

Jennifer Comptom is a poet and playwright who also writes prose. Her most recent poetry collection, Mr Clean & The Junkie, was published by Mākaro Press in 2015 and was longlisted for the Ockham NZ Book Awards. She lives in Melbourne.

 

Better Off Read: Pip Adam and Anne Kennedy in conversation

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The Ice Shelf by Anne Kennedy. Cover illustration: Ant Sang

Victoria University Press (2018)

 

‘I was lucky enough to speak with Anne about her amazing work at Unity Books in Wellington last week.

Thanks to Anne, Unity Books Wellington and Victoria University Press for the great event and for letting me record it.’

 

Listen to Pip and Anne in conversation

Ten reasons to read Sport 46

 

 

 

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1. Anna Smaill’s long interview with Bill Manhire. The advantages of  slow-paced email interviews are evident as Anna and Bill explore the personal, ventriloquism, creative writing programmes, reading poetry, writing poetry, weirdness, holding back, trauma, God, mystery, parents, memory, drinking jugs of beer with Hone Tuwhare through the night. Life and poetry still maintain the requisite cloudy patches, private life and inner life are signposted but not made specific. This is a cracking interview – it refreshes my engagements with Bill’s poems, and writing and reading poetry in general.

2. Oscar Upperton’s poem ‘Yellow House’ because it has bright detail in the present tense and I am in the scene reading on a glorious loop.

The stream crosses the bridge. Pūkeko flicker

from blue to white, bikes rust into each other.

We rust at table.

 

(and the fact this poem is followed by ‘Explaining yellow house’ where Pip Adam gets a mention)

 

3. Sarah Barnett’s long poem essay ‘One last thing before I go’. Wow. This piece of writing is one of my treasures of the year because it goes deep into tough dark experience. It is measured and probing and hits you in the gut. Yet the fact of it on the page in front of me, so crafted and exposed, is uplifting.

 

4. Jane Arthur’s poem ‘I’m home a lot’ because it’s strange and real and unsettling.

 

This one sounds loudest against the front windows

and this one across the roof, nearly lifting it,

in an angry violent way. not like a bird taking off.

And even the birds here are massive and prehistoric.

Silence is rare. It’s eerie when it happens. Our dreams are mute.

 

5. Morgan Bach’s poem ‘carousel’ because when you read this your breathing changes and you enter a glorious mysterious complicated experience in the present tense.

 

but now having swallowed full moons,

coupled with mirrors of reticence, I find

life is not an experiment like that

and soon the body gives up its hunt

how soon the body becomes a cliff

how soon the body becomes a full stop

 

6. Discovering new-to-me poet Nikki-Lee Birdsey – she has a collection out with VUP next year and is currently an IIML PhD candidate. Her first-person storytelling in the form of a poem gripped me from the first lines.

7. essa may ranapiri’s selections because I find myself picturing them performing the poems and then I take supreme delight in the detail on the page.

8. Lynley Edmeades’s “We’ve All Got to Be Somewhere’ because it left a wry grin on my face. Poetry can do that.

9. Emma Neale’s ‘Unlove’ because this poem sings so beautifully.

 

My friend whose mind has frozen

sends me small gifts she says to keep her sane —

a cornflower-blue watch;

a box carved of light with a green latch;

a pink soapstone egg she says will one day hatch

a small, exquisite monster, its teeth sharp as love.

 

10. Rata Gordon’s poem ‘Mango’ because the writing is spare but it makes you feel so many different things.

 

This is all you have

to look forward to

your heartbeat and a

mango

everything else has dissolved:

your family

your intentions

 

 

Sport page