January 2017
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
notes towards an end
always now
before it has a name
morning light
does it live
the other I think
in the word
vital signs
the form conforms
to the word
eye to eye
what comes to pass
with a yes
no room now
light without end
fills the night
to be
what is hidden
and seen
Otata 13 - January 2017
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
a sequence for my daughter
jigsaw child
fitting words
fall together
only this
the flicker of blood
barely glimpsed
singled out
by silence
our mutable feast
in the world
if only of it
daughter buffalo
echoing
what has no voice
daughter of mine
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
midsummer night
the moon hangs about
like a suicide
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
heaven-sent . . .
vernix enfolds the word
whispered in doubt
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
my heartbeat
on mesolithic time
once more
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
advent silence
speaking our language
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
open hand . . .
her call curls out from
the unheard
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
awake again . . .
has dawn recreated
the am I was?
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
still us –
sounds aflutter
enter the light
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
dead silence . . .
an ancestral wisdom
in so few words
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
still life . . .
all my colours
from dusk
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
night falls on
night falling on
a dark sea
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
grave silence –
a distant fantail
barely heard
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
midnight hunt . . .
every pulse pledged
to the prey
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
after rain too
the sea has no colour
of its own
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
moonlit sea
bound to me in this ditch
of ownership
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
beach-combing
a child washes away
from her death
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
plagued by silence
a ruru mimics the sound
of the dark night
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
no more mind
just the ebb and flow
of a sea
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
windfallen
on manicured lawns
Sappho's ashes
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
as it falls
the intonation
of the night
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
swollen night
the pre-cum of dawn
bends a leaf
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
sultry night
my birthplace rattles
its chains
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
with age
the deepening pallor
of the moon
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
news of war
teens eye their figures
up and down
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
in the awe
overspilling her eyes
our smallness
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
new notebook
an abyss yawns open
to my voice
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
the darkness
of my mood
colours the toast
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
DT shakes
the cold-turkey of
twitter-feeds
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
eye to eye
the bottom line
still there
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
before me
a future who's who
of non-being
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
a sea breeze
encrypts messages
from the edge
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
less of more
the stream entered
more than once
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
forget them
lest these very words
linger on
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
ever present –
is this too to be
our pretense?
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
it is here
a vacancy of sky
and now
a bird
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
from Light Verse (a work in progress)
before light
when to be
is just that
in darkness
becoming
a candle
let there be . . .
ta ta ta
strike the flint
for now
a spark
just that
Saroyan's candle
sputtering
lighght
night breeze —
the sound of light
on a wick
the light
that lies
in words
a candle deifynes the darkness
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
wormhole trip . . .
my shadow and I
splice genes
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
on a narrow road
to the heart of the moment
before time began
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
insomnia . . .
I yawn my way through
some parallel dimension
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
inaugural flight
the eagle switches to
autocratic pilot
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
paper cranes . . .
I bend time and space
a thousand times
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
the reflections
of an alien species
out of my mind
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
eye contact . . .
particles appear smaller
than their wavelengths
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- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
olive stone -
a mass surveillance branch
all but snowed in
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
Why was he looking up at the night sky?
In the frost-crisped night of central Taranaki, when light was evanescent at best, he foot-crunched through a paddock to exteriorise the dark that had been suffusing him.
What filled the night sky at that moment?
Just stars. So cold was the air that the darkness was clear and starlight was breath-held in its stillness. The Southern Cross was risen there. Night-dew christened his beard.
Was he seen?
None knew of his presence there let alone the nature or length of his existence.
What could he see?
Only a chill arc of stars, a rainbow of night, creating its own light out of nothing.
Why the tear?
Because he could see as he is seen.
Did this precipitate any change?
He was strengthened to endure all that is still to come.
Will he depict that night in words for others to see?
He will learn how to do without words.
at the end
the beginning
of the end
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
Midnight mumbles with an ancient ache as you lower yourself into the movement not yours. The hour's stillness lurches with the vibrations of the cottage’s contortions at each joint. The rise and fall of the floor against your weight pulls against the former cling of place.
Man, you are here to oscillate as the reed in the wind does! The familiar disappears — a brief candle lit against the sound and sway of what snuffs it out. Feel it — back and forth — your breath cradled in the wrack and roar of foot-falls against rising shadow — vertigo that does not lessen with a shake of your head. It is here now - the mind failure that shakes off the words that once made sense.
darkness
enfolds the roots
wrenched bare
- Details
- Written by Hansha Teki
- Category: January 2017
"Dystopia?"
"My eyes have been squinting."
"All three?"
"One after another."
gallows pole
a wind chime hangs
on each word