Posts Tagged ‘Keri Hulme’

He Kōrerorero
Inane Question & A Flag In The Wind

You see, I’m really interested in flags. I have a full-size official flag-pole. I have a collection of flags, from the Hundertwasser to several made just for me.

When there was such an entity as the Ōkarito Free Republic, I was its proud Flag Warden…

He Kōrerorero
A bach upon a beach

A long time ago – over half a century gone past – two friends built a crib. My uncle Bill Miller & Tui McNeil.

He Kōrerorero
What would you do if tonight was the last day of your life?

There will be no tomorrow. The sun will not rise for you.

I refuse to speculate about your future…

He Kōrerorero
Dangerous stuff

Since I was a small child, I’ve collected things; books majorly, but also edged weapons and seashells, music (as in 78s and LPs as well as tapes and CDs) and artworks… not paintings or drawings (I enjoy making my own) but furniture and work by skilled wood-turners. Some jewellery, primarily pounamu. And, also since I was a kid, I’ve made survival kits.

Keri Hulme’s tidal tracks

I love walking tidelines. My footprints are evanescent — there at low tide, gone the next tide. Such is the life of footprints. Mostly. I learned as a child that…

Keri Hulme on her collecting compulsion

I freely admit it — I collect an awful lot of stuff… Some of my collections are understood by most people who encounter them. It makes good sense to have a…

Keri Hulme’s hymn to southern blue cod

You, rāwaru, have survived our predations. We have sought and slaughtered you since we arrived in the south. We love you! Or, rather, we love your taste and excellent food…

He Kōrerorero
An owl in the apple tree

I have been fascinated by owls since childhood.
As someone who couldn’t see normally (I was legally blind for a long time), I loved the idea of a silent night-see-er that also knew its way round by sound… and, was silent in flying…

He Kōrerorero
Haere rā e Jude

I came back home.

There is the chitter of sparrows and the annoying activities of starlings, and the occasional squark from a gull or two and a bit of a tune from blackbirds in the morning.

He Kōrerorero
Time to find a quiet river bank

YOU
are an egg.
Thin-skinned, teetering on the brink of oblivion – if there’s too much rain, you rot. Not enough? You dessicate. Besides, it’s the loving touch of *salt* water that you really need.