Today's poem
Recently I have worked with a New Zealander who came to Japan from Taihape in the North Island. One of my favorites is knocking on the door of foreigner's stories, ancestors with curiosity. When he talked about his town, I viewed, zoomed up Google Map. I had traveled to New Zealand a long time ago, and can't forget there had been various races in Auckland. There, I had felt the place had been in neither North America nor Europe by seeing faces of not-only Maori but also Polynesia, Melanesia, and Micronesia. Further, he explained the living places of his family members such as Napier and Mount Maunganui. He planned to invite his Japanese colleagues to his flat for breakfast with bacon egg and hash browns. I suggested to him that, unfortunately, it was difficult to find a Co-op supermarket selling frozen hash browns near his residence on the outskirts of Tokyo, for many Japanese people don't have a habit of eating it for breakfast. Now it's under COVID-19. I hope his plan will be realized in near future.
Recently I have worked with a New Zealander who came to Japan from Taihape in the North Island. One of my favorites is knocking on the door of foreigner's stories, ancestors with curiosity. When he talked about his town, I viewed, zoomed up Google Map. I had traveled to New Zealand a long time ago, and can't forget there had been various races in Auckland. There, I had felt the place had been in neither North America nor Europe by seeing faces of not-only Maori but also Polynesia, Melanesia, and Micronesia. Further, he explained the living places of his family members such as Napier and Mount Maunganui. He planned to invite his Japanese colleagues to his flat for breakfast with bacon egg and hash browns. I suggested to him that, unfortunately, it was difficult to find a Co-op supermarket selling frozen hash browns near his residence on the outskirts of Tokyo, for many Japanese people don't have a habit of eating it for breakfast. Now it's under COVID-19. I hope his plan will be realized in near future.
(* When I work as a business translator, I sometimes have partners. However, for literary activities, always alone.)
Radical like my ancestors I / saw the flower child / the wasted liberals / and my prehistoric / flare wearing prince / and like my ancestors I / kissed and kissed and kissed / and tasted / an entire lifetime of taking advantage and / being aware of it. / So at least / when my dress hits the floor / like molting bark / your eyes follow / and I can interpret / your fixation as shame. / Are you sorry? / And what does that say about me / if I think even a suggestion / of an apology is sexy? So like / my ancestors I / sculpt you from the dirt until you rise I / make you meet my eye / then suck you all up / with a slurp like a kina. / That’s Te Hei Mauri Ora. / Just like Papatuanuku / I breathe life / which is why my mother tongue spits praises despite / its history of whippings / I say
good on you babe. / You got what you wanted. / The juicy earth / the factoried women / the rivers / the mountains / all bowing for you. / I’m proud of you / the way you erected / monuments in your image / so foreign so / violently unimagined / just like my ancestors I / couldn’t even have even dreamed it. / Pou after pou / of grey and glass / cracking the sky and the sky / was full of whales. / Wow I say / good on you babe / then I spread / my hair all over the hotel pillow / because I love a winner. And you / hit the jackpot with me / with all us silly girls / for believing you were god / for as long as we did. / But now /
the atmosphere is betraying you / and you are reddening in places / where I can bare it. / A warrior / like my ancestors I survived / annihilation. And the awa / that run beneath my skin / have not been lapped dry / just yet / and you can see it all / the unpanned gold / the wild pounamu / the thrashing tuna / family jewels / you can never have / taonga / you can never taste / forbidden fruits / reserved for me / are you afraid again? / like you were of Eve? / the world / is getting unbearably hot / but so am I / and so is she.
Tohunga by Tayi Tibble
Visionary like my ancestors I / saw a sky of whales / a pale people / like my ancestors I / inhaled the bible / swallowed the rifle like / an 8 inch cock / whateva. / Like Donna Summer I swirled / in a floor length dress / said I love to love / I love to fuck / but just like my ancestors knew / to you I was a savage wild jasmine / a$$ out / blacked out / with dollar signs / feline like a bengal tiger and it’s true / that anyone on their hands and knees / is essentially a praying animal.
Radical like my ancestors I / saw the flower child / the wasted liberals / and my prehistoric / flare wearing prince / and like my ancestors I / kissed and kissed and kissed / and tasted / an entire lifetime of taking advantage and / being aware of it. / So at least / when my dress hits the floor / like molting bark / your eyes follow / and I can interpret / your fixation as shame. / Are you sorry? / And what does that say about me / if I think even a suggestion / of an apology is sexy? So like / my ancestors I / sculpt you from the dirt until you rise I / make you meet my eye / then suck you all up / with a slurp like a kina. / That’s Te Hei Mauri Ora. / Just like Papatuanuku / I breathe life / which is why my mother tongue spits praises despite / its history of whippings / I say
good on you babe. / You got what you wanted. / The juicy earth / the factoried women / the rivers / the mountains / all bowing for you. / I’m proud of you / the way you erected / monuments in your image / so foreign so / violently unimagined / just like my ancestors I / couldn’t even have even dreamed it. / Pou after pou / of grey and glass / cracking the sky and the sky / was full of whales. / Wow I say / good on you babe / then I spread / my hair all over the hotel pillow / because I love a winner. And you / hit the jackpot with me / with all us silly girls / for believing you were god / for as long as we did. / But now /
the atmosphere is betraying you / and you are reddening in places / where I can bare it. / A warrior / like my ancestors I survived / annihilation. And the awa / that run beneath my skin / have not been lapped dry / just yet / and you can see it all / the unpanned gold / the wild pounamu / the thrashing tuna / family jewels / you can never have / taonga / you can never taste / forbidden fruits / reserved for me / are you afraid again? / like you were of Eve? / the world / is getting unbearably hot / but so am I / and so is she.
(from the website of Best New Zealand Poems https://bit.ly/3ngrtgb )
(The dictionary of MAORI I purchased in Auckland.)