TRUE (MOSTLY)



In the Pākehā Dreamtime
     Frank Petre was a giant made of cloud,
stomping around the South Island.
     Every so often
he’d stop for a shit, squatting down,
     leaving behind as a deposit
a perfect little white basilica
     in well-modulated classical orders,
cupolas sprouting like a verdigris mushrooms.

Is there such a thing as a Pākehātanga?
Two thousand copper-headed nails hammered into
a crucifix of ivory and sandalwood;
two thousand limestone tongues of acanthus lapping at the tears
of concrete Minerva and plaster Apollo.
Timaru, Oamaru, Christchurch,

     Hokitika, Invercargill…

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

THE DEATH OF MARION DU FRESNE AT THE BAY OF ISLANDS, NEW ZEALAND, 12 JUNE 1772, BY CHARLES MÉRYON (1846-1848)

WHY PETER GILDERDALE CAN GET STUFFED

NOT EVERYONE LOVES JOJO RABBIT: A LIST OF LINKS