beautiful monsters

evidence

It is the unofficial view
of the red wheelbarrow and

more serious than a
search for syllables.

A phantom script telling
how rainbows are arranged, in which

man explores his own connections.
It is to fly in quest of beauty,

defining the blossom and
substantiating shadows. It is

the deepest part
of an echo,

the character in your fingers,
a breath that can

somehow adhere to dance.
It is the flowers,

the very limits of sound.
Understand that it is made

and
wild.

It is the suggestion,
the colour of why

the lion’s den, and
a hazardous attempt to

feel. It is cracked ice
thoughts that burn

the delicate skin
of wings

your tongue and the page.
It is a song born of night

and the simultaneous
compression of the heart.

It is three times the moon,
a packsack of a shadow

an alchemist who transmutes
his own amazement.

It is the sublimest activity of Spring;
an orphan of hyacinths and wonder

evidence of the infinite
within the ash.

Maui is legendary!

Tonight I was lucky enough to get a ticket for the dress rehearsal of Maui - One Man Against the Gods. I knew it was going to be amazing, because I’ve caught glimpses of the dream over the past two years... but even so I was blown away.

The aerialists were breathtaking as they spun and danced through the air, and twisted their bodies around ribbons of cloth hanging down from the ceiling.

The set design was one of the best I’ve ever experienced. One hectare of fabric was used in the production. Huge screens were sometimes used as a backdrop for patterns of light to be projected onto, sometimes as a filter we looked through to another world, and sometimes billowing unexpectedly over the heads of the audience.

Toni Huata was stunning, doing the two things she does best: performing, and wearing fabulous costumes. One of her gorgeous outfits took up the whole stage!

The actors and dancers were fantastic. One of the things I loved about the show was the great sense of humour. Sometimes it seems like all of New Zealand’s creative productions (movies, books, plays) are so gloomy and serious. Maui, the man, was a cheeky guy with a wicked sense of humour, and this show reflects that spirit in its playfulness. Tanemahuta and the Maui whanau have managed to weave together a journey that is filled with laughter one moment, and the next moment it touches on a spiritual identity that we can all feel a connection to – Tau Iwi / Pakeha as well as Maori.

The spirit behind the show is one of warm aroha and supportiveness. I have experienced first hand Tanemahuta’s infectious enthusiasm, his talent for drawing out the potential within each person, and the way he will lovingly tautoko anyone who is willing to work towards their dreams. I’m so proud to know so many of the people who have brought this show to life – and I’m so proud of what they have achieved. When they’re world famous ten times over I’ll still be bragging about how I trained with them once upon a time… Big props, nga mihi aroha tino nui ki a te whanau katoa.

If you haven’t already, go buy tickets. And living overseas is no excuse – start campaigning to get the show to your town next!

(I think this entry may have used up my adjective quota for the year…)

help me!

I seem to have a very short attention span for reading at the moment. I can watch Buffy for ten hours straight no problems, but I can’t read a book for ten minutes. I refuse to believe that these two things are connected in any kind of cause and effect way, so don’t even go there.

I’ve been trying to read Anil’s Ghost, but it’s just not happening. So, short fiction it is. The trouble is my small collection of short fiction seems to be dominated by New Zealand collections. And, do be frank, I am so sick of New Zealand literature. Actually, not all of it. I really enjoy Caren Wilton.

I find the library really scary. All those books, thousands of them. How am I ever going to find the good ones? I have no idea where to even begin. So, I’m asking for your help. Please, tell me what I want to read. The short story writers I have enjoyed most recently are Etgar Keret and Jhumpa Lahiri. I’m not sure if that narrows it down any, I can’t think of anything they have in common, other than not being New Zealanders. Although... they are published by two of my favourite publishers, Picador and Flamingo. I often use that as a way of coping with the library – wander along the rows looking out for certain logos. Still, it’s not failsafe. That’s why I’m turning to you. I know you won't let me down.

phallic Japan

There are always a few weird ones in the weekly site stats… sometimes I can’t work out where on earth the search terms are on my site, and I have to do a search to find them.

So, it turns out that if you do a Google search for beautiful penis, my blog comes out on top. Yup, that’s right, Number One. And that was before I even wrote this post. I figure, what the heck, give ’em something to read while they are here.

Now, personally, I don’t find penises especially beautiful. I think they’re pretty much the silliest looking anatomy imaginable. But, just for you, I’m going to declare penises beautiful, just for this post. And today all the beautiful penises are Japanese.

Our journey begins with a poem from Realia, by Kate Camp. Which is, by the way, a fine book indeed. A friend and I were just talking about how people don’t read enough poetry these days. It’s sad. So, if you haven’t read a poem this week, then seek out a copy of one of Kate’s books. You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. You’ll wish you’d written that first. They are all so true, you know? The kind of truth that is so obvious you don’t notice it until someone points it out. The pages are filled with the beautiful poetry of the utterly ordinary. Add to that the clever, playful use of words, lines that feel so good on your tongue, and some brilliant titles. Go on, read it. Meanwhile, here is a beautiful poem with penises.

At the Crossroads Bookshop

I read Japanese poems
in translation
in a vinyl chair

you stand in your coat
and look at giant penises
in Japanese prints.

The poems are all about grass
and love, and occasionally the eyebrows
of a pined-for daughter

the prints are erotica
sandwiched against photos
from a nude production of Oh! Calcutta!

I say –
listen to this –
‘a shadow is my inn’

you say – it isn’t here,
the one with the lovers,
and the crumpled tissues

I say –
listen to this –
‘a flower is my host’

but secretly, I see your absent print:
white Fuji-boats adrift,
an undressed gift.

*

If you are feeling disappointed because you did not get to see the print in question, our next stop ought to cheer you up. We’re heading to the annual Japanese festival of Kanamara Matsuri. Also known as the Penis Festival.

It all goes back (many many generations ago) to an unfortunate girl, and her even more unfortunate husband, who found on their wedding night that her vagina was lined with sharp teeth. The husband fled, missing six inches, and the young lass was left lonely and childless. She chomped her way through several more husbands before the village blacksmith agreed to try his hand at marriage. He before their wedding night he forged a great penis of iron. And, happily, it did the trick. The young woman broke all her teeth on the big iron dildo, and went on to have many children.

Such lovely cherry blossoms

Their story lives on in this springtime fertility festival, during which you can see children sitting on a giant penis seesaw, grandmothers licking penis shaped lollypops, and transvestites parading through the streets carrying enormous pink phallic objects. And other interesting anecdotes. Read this story to find out why no one had any sympathy for “for the poor soul who’d just lost his fertility in the brass vagina shrine.”

And then check out this site for some fabulous festival photographs. I particularly like the carved radishes.

Spiritual community

Last week we danced in the aisles to Kool and the Gang.

This week we had a baptism - twin boys of lesbian parents.

Next week we’re putting on a play that has little green aliens and the Holy Spirit in it.

Yes, I love my church.

(Kool and the Gang was at Galaxies, it wasn’t the usual St Andrew’s morning service. Not that we don’t dance in the aisles in the morning, but not usually to Kook and the Gang).

Lloyd Geering is doing a series of lectures on The Greening of Christianity. Should be good. First Lecture is at 12:15 this Tuesday.

And you should come along next Sunday morning at 10 - there's going to be this play...