Murray Edmond

posted by Michele

Everyday Life on Mount Forehead (excerpt)


Yuri signed her name with her stamp
the two characters – KINU (silk) and GAWA (river) –
in red inside a circle of red ink


what an exotic beautiful name I wanted to exclaim
until I stopped to listen to my own language
and heard such names as SILKSTONE or BRIDGEWATER
for what they are which is to say what they might be



ostranenie of course Shklovsky called it



to hear then stop and listen and to hear again


on the TV news at 6pm last

night ‘breaking news’ of Hone Tuwhare’s death



TU to stand to stop to remain

WHARE house

hear the name again


and what stands inside the name


in ’77 in Sid (Hirirni) Melbourne’s reo class we
were set the composition
‘Taku whare tu mokemoke’
to speak with the voice of the carved house in the
National Museum



the house is not a house without the people

it does not stand

in 1966 (or was it five

Scott and I went to hear him read almost all of
No Ordinary Sun cigarette after cigarette poem after
poem in the new Teachers College/University lecture theatre
in Hillcrest (the college just moved from Melville
(the university just a little more than an idea


before each poem he apologised for the poem we were
about to hear


funny funny funny old man funny




only one friend

went to Waikato
(the rest of us thought we wanted to drop
dead rather than stay in Hamilton

not from choice but
with mother dying and father in prison it was
all she could afford


good to hear now she teaches at

The New School in New York


Best not to leave a mark

behind for good or ill


in her big old Holden she drove me
round the lake    under the stars under that tree:


the girl in the park

did not reach up to touch

the cold steel buttons



hear again
here again


biking across Hamilton for poetry’s sake






NZ flag at half mast as Pat Hohepa finishes his
speech, a young man scurries into the house
to announce: ‘They read a Tuwhare poem at Sir Ed’s funeral –
I heard it on the radio’


but most locals here haven’t read any

Tuwhare poem


careful he might write another one with that blue ballpoint
in his left hand


the Wharepaepae urupa is hidden from view

across a paddock where the cars are parked, down a track
then up to the top of a small steep hill


from there you can

look out north south east west / as far as the eye
a fine place to rest
there’s/work yet, for the living


stopped by the cops for goin’ too slow
just want to get there as late as I can
whoa whoa whoa

red light in my head

blue light in my eyes


long green stick insect waves in the air sitting on
the rimu like a Bill Hammond bird

huhu bug

blunders in to join the drinkers
a fool moon

and a mist at dawn


the land breathes out long and slow


Shawn said...

Intersting topic to talk about, i am too an poem lover and its good to know the secret's which you discribe in your post.


Unknown said...

i am too an poem lover and its good to know the secret's which you discribe in your post.