for a reclamation declaimed by the tumbling

mumbling tongues of salinity

at a beach which heads for a context

a breach into the canon of beaches

writing in sand obscured by puffs

and gulls and tide’s own cursive

curling lickity ups and lollipop downs

through the otherwise metronomic

glassiness then swelling then rough

to high waves and back down

to the ground or to the rocks again

and again the saline solution

xii Independence Day

We hear a lot in Auckland these days

about the cost of the viaduct basin

the benefits accrued from the Cup challenge

various economic analyses: tourists

property exposure capital: the Americans

are really doing their homework

before they decide to colonise us

(but this time I really mean most kiwis

i.e. 85.1% of the population according

to the 1996 census) it doesn’t mean

much to the rest it’s still going to be

a colony

xiii Rough Cuts

the strokes slow, start cutting the drink

becalmed by tired arms

billowing at a tangent

we need a flying fox to new land

hook our mast and glide

like our descendants in skies

who have histories

backwards and forwards

our descendants who will secure

discoveries and communicate

to their descendants the value

of wonders they will find

allowing us – the ancestors –

to navigate our history

down lines

xiv Ka huri ahau ki te reo o te ao pouri

And morning yields to the purpose of the day.

Bright blood, the sun a clot tying darkness.

Waka of death duels death’s waka.

The event chokes blood lines –

to civilized time and lex romanum.

The threats, curses, fingers pointing

at me, descendant of the crew

of one death waka,

pinch every nerve,

make me sad and proud

that I am an ambassador,

representative of all they surveyed.

And confused, very confused.

Why did these things happen?

Why are these things put

on me?

Where does it end?

At least

I am learning my history,

the people

who lie within me.

Let anyone challenge

our place again.

xv Sullivan Whanau

The grass at Te Kaaretu was renowned

for its softness – our ancestors would line

their whare with it for bedding. Today we are

gathered up like clumps of Kaaretu grass,

made soft by the gathering, and we line

the whare nui at Pihareinga, Te Kaaretu,

with our bedding once again.

I learn Arapeta’s song, e tuwhera atu nei,

te awa o Taumarere … our ancestral river

of Taumarere opens here, although of course

we had settlements at Matauwhi and Kororareka –

the first New Zealand capital – we were

one of the first tribes to be affected

by westernisation. Today we are following

the river, tracing the paths of our people,

the great names and the previously unknown,

trying to find the first Sullivan who gave us

his name early last century. What was his

first name? who did he marry? why did he stay here?

was he marooned? was it a woman?

what was his waka? These questions remain to date.