All Blacks’ Kitchen Gardens, my poetry collection published in 2007, has been reprinted: a small reprint, but still, it’s good to be in a position to do so.
In case you’ve yet to sample its delights, you can:
- check out the All Blacks’ Kitchen Gardens page on my web site for the blurb, review quotes, and details of the contents;
- take a look at John Girdlestone’s marvellous cover design for the book (above) – see the left-hand column for the final version of the cover, with Mark Pirie’s lettering; and
- buy the book online from New Zealand Books Abroad or Fishpond (yes, they are showing the wrong cover!), or contact me directly for availability information (email firstname.lastname@example.org).
Here’s “First Light””, a poem from All Blacks’ Kitchen Gardens. I planned to read it in Christchurch a couple of weeks ago, but, to Joanna Preston’s disappointment, ran out of time. Until I make an audio file of it, this print version is the best I can do.
First light on the new sea. Cows
crop hilltops turned islands.
Small boats sound the fathoms
over the family farm.
On sudden shores, survivors
gather to click and point. There’s Aunt Edna.
There’s her house, three china ducks
riding the morning tide.
Sky blue, smell
briny. Somewhere down there, graveyards,
urupa. The divisions, ancestral, cadastral,
that put a human stamp on land.
Aid is coming. Helicopters,
news crews, interviews and articles.
Grief and condescension. Coat,
blanket, a fusilade of cans.
Fog on devastation. Sudden eddies.
The drowned turbines of Te Apiti
blades still turning
mine the new and liquid wind.