You are the volcano, full of lava and firey eruptions – untouchable and yet I can’t help but want to put my fingers in you to see how you feel…will I get burned so badly the pain will last forever?
I am the ocean, turbulent with mixed currents – chill and inviting…you want to dive into me but are afraid you will drown, that I will suffocate you in my airless surge.
If only we could hold each other without our senses, it’s senseless to get sentimental – mentally taxing as the moon above us waxes and wanes our moments lived caressing each other’s songs in harmony.
There is an island where we meet.
At first it was just a clump of rocks, clinging for breath as we both poured forth…each day it has grown, grounding itself, giving life and space to love.
We hover there, no fear – it dissapates, dissolving into glitter that becomes the kind of magic that inspires…our island is art. We make, creating pictures and movements, cementing a future of goodness for all our relations.
Hold your head high above the clouds my baby, you are regal beyond belief…I’ll lie low in my books and words, charting darkened terrains for the hidden treasures we can share when we meet in thoughts producing actions, action to thought.
Wow…genderfluid loving at its best.
This is a Pākehā new year apparently -we have to go by the new dates that some random megalomaniac in Italy devised for y’all a few thousand years ago. It’s a fad that won’t last cos it’s out of synch with the reality people are finally starting to wake up to.
There’s no such thing as time.
In writing that, I’m glad that one phase is coming to a natural conclusion. I’ve been focussing on finishing my thesis…I mean, for the past four years I have been saying that I am focussing on finishing my thesis, but now I’m nearly finished…26 more days and then I am sending it off to my supervisors for final feedback – print and then submit.
These past few months have been intense so I am enjoying wiping some slates clean and moving on with life, it’s time to let go and be free for a welcome change.
I have started doing some very low key performance artwork in Rotorua, where I live. An old man physically abused me even though I was only writing a story about our polluted lake with chalk on cobblestones…he even tried to push me in the lake before I turned into an angry Māori betch. Really, this series of performance works are the winding up of my PhD creative works. I’ve realised that my PhD project has been a process of stripping my artwork back the essentials, where my voice is no longer trapped and enslaved by the expected layers of thinking demanded by academentia in contemporary art. Screw ‘contemporary art’ and ‘art theory’. Fuck art, I’m into the creation of taonga. I enjoyed making taonga about taonga yesterday…it made me free again.
Anyway, back to the thesis at hand xxx