The Auckland University Press Anthology of New Zealand Literature

Home > Other > The Auckland University Press Anthology of New Zealand Literature > Page 95
The Auckland University Press Anthology of New Zealand Literature Page 95

by Jane Stafford


  put some juice

  back in your

  systems?—ah how you value

  the tough lover who

  keeps you up

  to the mark, whose head

  eyes language hands

  loins en-

  gage you, give you

  elevation, a prospect, with whom you ride

  up the up &

  up like birds beating on in

  the mutual updraughts of

  each other’s wings—birds, a

  subject I’ll come back to later

  when I’m through with this

  drain: what needs

  to be noted here, though, is that even if

  some things don’t fight

  back at once or

  obviously, you can still

  bet your ‘sweet’ (for)

  ‘life’

  they fight back all right & your children & children’s

  children will be paying your

  blood-money, citizen—

  well, meanwhile, we agreed, let’s

  keep our shit out

  of the public eye & let’s

  keep our friendly sheds, our lovely slums,

  our righteous brittle screwy

  inspired constructs

  up: & then

  let’s add some

  flourishes, decoration in this kind

  of setting doesn’t coddle

  anyone, least of all the chickens

  whose coop’s

  included in the drainage

  problem threatening to

  overwhelm us

  all: besides, we’ll all

  benefit: chickens with dry

  feet lay more eggs

  because they’re happy: happiness

  as a concept may be

  about as brittle as

  demolition timber when the latter’s traced

  back to its

  forest & the former

  to its causes, but it

  serves likewise, it teaches us

  ‘for life’: if you’re

  for life you’re for its crazy outhouses,

  the corners of happiness that don’t

  square: right,

  there were lots

  of reasons, the practical & the

  ideal didn’t separate out,

  the forests & the brittle planks

  were one, we

  were engaged, we wanted

  to convert our drainage problem,

  transform it, tran-

  substantiate it, assume it into

  the causes of our happiness & the

  happiness of our

  chickens whose wet feet

  & poor laying rates

  rebuked us daily—we picked

  up shovels, backed off somewhat,

  then we started digging fast, we went at it, we went

  down four feet & then

  two more, there was

  all kinds of trash, bottles & old

  sofa springs & broken

  masonry & bricks

  & unusual quanitites of bones dating

  from a previous owner who’d bred

  dogs, Dobermans (-men?) I

  heard, then we began to get

  into the clay

  pug, we were out of

  sight by now, the shovels hove

  into view at

  rare intervals,

  shaken by

  buried handlers

  to loose the sticky glup:

  a comic & as time went by

  popular spectacle: for those

  down in the drain

  the strain began to

  tell: some quit, some

  hid, some developed rheums

  blisters & trenchfoot, streptococci

  swarmed upon their tonsils,

  they pissed

  chills straight from the kidney (it was

  now winter, autumn had

  dallied by among

  the easy wreckage of an

  earlier level)

  they defected, deserted,

  they offered their apologies, they

  fucked off, the practical &

  the ideal

  sprang apart like

  warping unseasoned

  timber, boiiingg-

  ggg … a sound, I

  thought, not

  unlike a drop

  on a long rope: what

  deserters got once, & I found myself

  wishing it on them

  again as I

  plied my lone shovel, bucket,

  grout, mattock, axe & spade,

  baling out the boggy trench

  as the ‘drainage problem’ halted

  right there, hacking

  through roots (that deep!) shoring

  up avalanching walls (the drain—huh!—was

  by now fifty yards

  long & in some

  places twelve feet

  deep! impressive even

  if left at that) & shaving

  out gummy scoops

  of clay which grunting

  I then flicked heaven-

  ward into the blue

  icy sky or

  alternatively into the sky

  the low colour

  of clay: clay

  anyway, clay & more

  clay, the gobs landed up

  there pretty

  randomly after a while, & sometimes

  they got washed

  down again by the late winter

  rain, heavy rain, which the

  roots of trees were

  sucking at, sap

  beginning to rise in them,

  refreshed by those

  surface-feeding tendrils, those deep

  tap-roots, & it’s here the

  story really

  starts: not

  that what’s been said so far’s

  irrelevant, though I apologise for its

  disorderly development &

  the large number of

  seeming non-sequiturs—things

  do

  follow I assure you, they

  proceed, citizen, they practically hunt

  you down, & me, who’ve

  just been enjoying the way

  these lines unfold, much

  more easily than how the pug

  & clodded

  marl left that

  drain, landing up there

  out of sight & almost

  burying one

  of three baby

  fruit trees (we’re here) which

  therefore didn’t get its tiny

  branches cut

  back before the

  sap rose in them as spring came

  on gravely, gaily, with me still down

  there in the trench

  still chucking the odd

  clod up & still

  covering that pear tree: finally

  a retaining wall

  got built (use

  was made of

  used materials) & then a truck

  came with field tiles

  & another with shingle & we got

  together some

  used roofing-iron

  & we had a drain! Yeah! there

  was enough fall in it to get

  ‘the problem’ drainage

  away & out of our way, the chickens

  basked & laid, the clammy surfaces

  of seeping banks

  dried up, the rotting

  structures with their feet in

  clay delayed their

  inevitable demise, miasmal

  damps & soaks breathed

  out their last stinks of mould

  & fungus, artesian

  cheeps & kisses of surfacing

  wet were drowned in

  birdsong, when the sun shone it

  dried & when the rain fell it ran away

  the way

  we wanted: it was

  summer, the leaf

&n
bsp; uncrinkled from the bud

  blossom fell, fruit

  spurs plumped out,

  sap circulated with its natural zest,

  & one small

  pear tree, un-

  pruned, went

  crazy! was a mares-nest

  of wild growth, capillary

  maze of shoots & tangled

  twigs gobbling the provisions

  of root & leaf, starch

  & water, sweet open

  sandwiches of rotted

  stackbottom & whatnot,

  bonbons

  & snacks broken & tasted

  by those bon-vivants the

  earthworms: the whole gusty

  catering-service

  served

  that tree whose clusters

  congested & grew

  together with ungainly health

  while nearby

  the other two grew

  straight sturdy

  & slim, sunlight

  entered their hearts,

  they reached up

  heavenwards: ‘benighted’ is

  a word we should have

  the use of

  more often: oh pear tree! in

  that condition you’d never

  score a single

  shrivelled product: well

  come autumn I cut you

  back till there was almost

  nothing left: the lesson

  is, effort’s got to be directed …

  yeah, I heard

  they wanted to build an

  ALUMINIUM

  SMELTER

  at

  Aramoana, the sea-gate, & someone’s bound to direct

  more effort that

  way soon: listen, there’s

  birds out there, we’re

  back with those lovers, the buoyancy

  & updraught of some kind of

  mutual understanding of what

  service is, of the fact that

  a thing being easy doesn’t

  make it available or passive:

  listen, effort’s got to be right

  directed, that’s

  all, the catering’s amazing, everything

  proceeds, citizen, sometimes

  it’s hard work, but you’re

  engaged, you want

  to keep practical & ideal

  together, you’re

  for life, you know that happiness

  has to do with yes

  drains & that nature

  like a pear tree

  must be served before

  it’ll serve you, you

  don’t want your children’s

  children paying

  your blood-

  money, citizen, you’re

  for a different sort

  of continuity, you want

  to live the way

  you want

  to, you want to keep

  your structures up, you

  want elevation,

  you’re ready to do

  your share, you’ll dig your field-

  drain & you’ll

  keep your shit out

  of the water supply:

  you want to

  serve & to be left alone

  to serve & be served,

  understanding tough

  materials, marl & old timber,

  the rich claggy rind

  of the world where

  dinosaurs once

  were kings: well they’re gone now though

  they survived longer

  than we have

  yet, but then we know, don’t we,

  citizen, that there’s nowhere

  to defect to, & that

  living in the

  universe doesn’t

  leave you

  any place to chuck

  stuff off

  of.

  (1975)

  Apirana Taylor, ‘The Womb’

  Your fires burnt my forests

  leaving only the charred bones

  of totara rimu and kahikatea

  Your ploughs like the fingernails

  of a woman scarred my face

  It seems I became a domestic giant

  But in death

  you settlers and farmers

  return to me

  and I suck on your bodies

  as if they are lollipops

  I am the land

  the womb of life and death

  Ruamoko the unborn god

  rumbles within me

  and the fires of Ruapehu still live

  (1979)

  Brian Turner, ‘The Initiation’

  Use a decent length of No. 8:

  make sure you get it in deep, right

  to the back of the burrow

  if you have to.

  Push and probe

  until you feel the bastard

  trying to squirm out of the way

  then when you feel you’ve got it cornered

  shove it in

  and twist like hell

  until you’ve got the bastard

  really wound up

  tight (it’ll

  squeal a bit) then

  pull it out slowly

  like you were pulling a lamb

  from an old ewe’s cunt,

  then grab it

  and break the bastard’s neck

  the foreman said.

  It wasn’t that easy.

  (1978)

  Kevin Ireland, ‘Animals and Engines’

  thin animals depended

  on our pity

  we picked up haggard coughy cats

  stray spiny mongrels

  fed them on oil

  and milk and boiled meat

  brushed them

  smeared ointment on their sores

  coaxed them into old pullovers

  and wept for them

  but cows could see no use in us

  fat ponderous and rhythmical

  they were like engines

  which could be taken for granted

  knocked about and left out in the rain

  part of the reliable machinery

  which turned grass into cream

  day after day and kept the country going

  and though we were usually

  bustled away from sickness and death

  once we were taken for a treat

  to see a dying cow

  it couldn’t possibly have hurt

  she was propped up stiffly

  dumb puffy preposterous stunned

  a bloated device of seething mulch

  a seized-up ugly boneless thing

  generating gas

  bursting with stinks

  explosive

  her tongue protruding like a fuse

  he took a knife

  and waved the blade through flame

  wait for the bang he said

  we hunched and giggled

  blocking our ears

  screwing up our eyes

  fatness is funny

  he stabbed her

  but there was no blast

  no bellow

  there was just a kind of dry gargle

  from her punctured side

  then the gas was gone

  her moving parts unlocked

  she wobbled knelt and folded up

  a trembling skinny shriveled beast

  she was alive

  her eyes were sad and pleading

  and we began to cry

  she’ll be alright he said

  hurrying us out

  she never felt a thing

  even Henry Ford couldn’t invent

  an engine you could fix as easy

  as these mobile compost heaps

  yet the knife had ruined something

  she ballooned again

  the incision festered

  and the vet was called

  but all he could do

  was make arrangements

  for someone to come and ca
rt her off

  a load of scrap

  we hung about

  till we could ask the vet

  if he would help our newest cat

  he said it was a waste of his time

  and our money and drowning

  was the best cure

  but still he took him from our arms

  dropped him in a sugar-bag

  tied it to stop him clawing

  and through a slit he lanced

  the bag of pus upon his side

  his cries were pitiful

  he was so thin

  and even vets are vulnerable

  he sent a bill

  for coming to that fat and silent cow

  he cured our cat for nothing

  (1974)

  Ruth Dallas, ‘Pioneer Woman with Ferrets’

  Preserved in film,

  As under glass,

  Her waist nipped in,

  Skirt and sleeves

  To ankle, wrist,

  Voluminous

  In the wind,

  Hat to protect

  Her Victorian complexion,

  Large in the tussock

  She looms,

  Startling as a moa.

  Unfocussed,

  Her children

  Fasten wire-netting

  Round close-set warrens,

  And savage grasses

  That bristle in a beard

  From the rabbit-bitten hills.

  She is monumental

  In the treeless landscape.

  Nonchalantly she swings

  In her left hand

  A rabbit,

  Bloodynose down.

  In her right hand a club.

  (1976)

  Allen Curnow, ‘A Balanced Bait in Handy Pellet Form’

  Fluent in all the languages dead or living,

  the sun comes up with a word of worlds all spinning

  in a world of words, the way the mountain answers

  to its name and that’s the east and the sea das meer,

  la mer, il mare Pacifico, and I am on my way to school

  barefoot in frost beside the metalled road

  which is beside the railway beside the water-race,

  all spinning into the sun and all exorbitantly

  expecting the one and identical, the concentric,

  as the road, the rail, the water, and the bare feet run

  eccentric to each other. Torlesse, no less,

  first mountain capable of ice, joined the pursuit,

  at its own pace revolved in a wintry blue

  foot over summit, snow on each sunlit syllable,

  taught speechless world-word word-world’s ABC.

  Because light is manifest by what it lights,

  ladder-fern, fingernail, the dracophyllums

  have these differing opacities, translucencies;

  mown grass diversely parched is a skinned ‘soul’

  which the sun sloughed; similarly the spectral purples

  perplexing the drab of the dugover topsoil

  explain themselves too well to be understood.

  There’s no warmth here. The heart pulsates

  to a tune of its own, and if unisons happen

  how does anyone know? Dead snails

  have left shells, trails, baffled epigraphy

  and excreta of such slow short lives,

 

‹ Prev