The suntanned rough sleeper sits cross-legged on his traffic island, complete with coconut palm. Red zone, green zone, blue zone, street zone, food zone, bed zone, dead zone, as if looking round cloud nine, seventh heaven, some resort island, or some slum, where the poor live, and dream of owning something larger than themselves.
#Punk rock moku hanga cracked#
Now along the cracked roads weaving around slumbering Kilauea, those dried hanging wisps of lava flutter in the wind to tell the whole island is alive, and when again it stirs and its fire surges through vents to plunge into the boiling sea, sending up multiple plumes of steam, there will be wave echoes from islands far out, baling for dear life.
#Punk rock moku hanga full#
Break it open and you see where the taffy-like lava has hardened into layers it splinters, wafer-like, full of air bubbles. Molten magma, cooled, settles to a black satin mass, an extruded river of lava, the surface of which has weathered shiny and smooth as plastic. Pupualenalena the Dog-spirit dwells in a rock, and ghosts of the underworld rise to the surface in episodic eruption. The ashy volcano smoulders, and waits, reptilian in evening calm. On hot spring waters, prismatic bubbles slide and pop. A scrollwork of ferns shelters chandeliers of orchids, beyond the bulge of black ripples of lava whacked by wind and sun glare. Garlands of fire on the waves, caldera blowing hot and cold, magma hissing like a dragon, lava brighter than a tropical flower, snow settling above the rainforest. VR: Do you think you might have a piece of flash fiction or a prose poem for us to include, please? That would be great too. A writer and critic and winner of many national awards for his writing, he is the former editor of Landfall magazine. And he is to be valued for that.” David Eggleton now lives in Dunedin/Ōtepoti. Poetry reviewer Alan Loney wrote in New Zealand Books “David Eggleton is unique in New Zealand in his chosen mode. Dramatic, lively, witty, and anchored in Moana Oceania, David Eggleton’s work exemplifies and maintains the vibrancy of contemporary poetry in Aotearoa New Zealand. David Eggleton’s Pasifika heritage and passion for poetry performance result in poems which have a strong oral and rhythmic quality.
A South Auckland pathfinder, one of the OGs, an old-school rapper and Kiwi ranter. VR: Can you also please tell us more about yourself? That is, about your writing career and genres, including latest poetry collection? Current projects?ĭE: To keep it short and crisp, here’s a blurb: David Eggleton has been known as a poetry performer since the 1980s, when he emerged as part of the punk rock scene, performing alongside New Wave bands on the pub and cafe circuit. Nofo lototo’a pea hanga ho ulu ki olunga! And a gliding frigate bird rides the trade winds, the equatorial breeze between islands, as my guide to the flight path, above the phosphorescent wake of the vaka. And now my cousins, my kaīnga, living across the Pacific toast us all, me and my siblings, with Mai Tai cocktails, with Mimosas, with Mojitos, with Fiji Gold and Mokusiga and Vailima beers. After years dwelling in the land of the long white cloud, I returned to find the colony of islands I knew then had vanished to be replaced by the Republic of Fiji and globalisation, the whole world tightly interconnected, and the Moana Nui a sea of islands linked by boat, plane, and social media. Slowly I felt the tropic sun leave my veins. I left Fiji at the age of eight for Aotearoa, skimming over the waves in a Sunderland flying boat white as an albatross.
My father was an airman at the RNZAF base near Suva. She swam and dived, and sailed between the islands of Tonga and Rotuma in the Fiji group, and eventually she went to live at Levuka on Ovalau overlooking the sea. My grandmother, my kui fefine, was from Namoli, on Tongatapu. My grandfather, my ma’piag fa, was a carver, a canoe-maker from Motusa, on the island of Rotuma. Now the seaweed grows in her floating hair. From her, the sea, I received my life-source. I was born in a double-hulled canoe during a storm.
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