// Please Keep This For Your Records //

Please keep this for your records

Will be the name of my first collection of poetry

I recently saw the phrase on some official-looking documents and thought yes

that is it

I like the sound of the words together

Please and keep

For and your and

Two r’s together

Matches made in assonistic lyrrical heaven


Please, keep this for your records.

If you know me, you know

How I feel




Photocopies of photocopies of photocopies


The weight of documents made in triplicate.

This is because I was a lawyer in a past life

Who had nightmares about the after-death-wishes of certain clients

and sharp triangles made of folded parchment

and shredded paper colour streamers that would only ever decorate

the insides of locked red-lidded wheelie bins

That is, until I ran away to Europe

And was reincarnated at the East London Buddhist Centre

Where I began to write poems in my head when I should have been meditating

Tsk, Tsk,

Breathe in, breathe out

Cultivate loving kindness

(And remember to write that down)


Please - keep this for your records

This is kind of funny

Because I have a box full of journals with most of the pages blank but for black lines making cages

And I call myself a recycler

This is kind of funny

Because it is all digital these days anyway, isn’t it?

And I still have a bulging plastic concertina file playing the same old shit just

in different keys with different letterheads and different dates

This is kind of funny

Because I both want you to and don’t want you to read the thing and/or keep it

Just put a line through the one you don’t want to choose, okay?


Fuck it. 


Everybody already knows that all the good stuff – the what-they-call “juicy bits” happen off the record,



Still.  Please.  KTFYR.

// Waiata //

Aldous Harding is my fave.  Watching her play at Blue Smoke in February was one of those rare occasions where I felt like I'd experienced something potent and precious - like seeing a fantail in the trees above your head moments before it darts away somewhere out of sight.  I won't attempt to describe the music itself; it'd be almost as bad as that there simile (sorry team, its been a day).  Her second album Party comes out in May.

Get it.

// Wharekauri //

“Nights and days came and passed
And summer and winter
and the rain
And it was good to be a little Island.
A part of the world
and a world of its own

All surrounded by the bright blue sea.”  

Margaret Wise Brown The Little Island


Took a drive out to Wharekauri today.  I tried to capture the vast expanse of sweeping cloud and the meeting of the sky and ocean blues.    

We passed by Mt Chudleigh Reserve on the way (see top of map); we plan to climb to the top sometime this year.  

(Our place is just outside the main town settlement, Waitangi, on the road that leads to Owenga.) (Map c/o Te Ara NZ Encyclopaedia)