Tina Cartwright New Zealand
Untitled Grave of the sea in silver cloud light Why do they not see you? The hills are dark sighs Caressing your mirror sides This humanity of hustle, greed, grey structure Must . . . Absorb you Drown in your glistening secrets Be blinded by your silver beauty Scrape back the walls of the stomach Feel you . . . there You, surging, strength in the blood strength of timelessness strength of tradition strength undeniable Deep in the dark belly of all life. That Granada Night Your memory is the silver lark of death waiting for love to outshine time You are in that Granada night snaking through sandy alleys into the underworld where lament drew blood and tears formed red stars to shroud the moon You were my laughter Floating down river Caught by the lip of the cave Sucked into dark Where the myths of openings to the underworld are real, I kissed blue lips once blood red Take me downriver where the cave opens into night. To Know The blackbird on the aerial outside Knows many things The butcher yesterday knows things I never will The feel of the knife The peel of flesh from bone The severed connections of life The strength of a man What it's like to wield I am trying to uncover the marketplace of my time avoiding lines in social networking where everyone's a star a dream-liver, creator If the wiry mind Settles and gathers dust Sending out roots in sandy earth Wait till the sun's low Cut them off, just where they are strongest Pull them out by their tails Split them in two Tether them to the clothesline Wait for the wind The creaking of steel Wait for the thread of night Looping over buildings, clots of earth Wait for the neighbour's warbling to cease Let their tails whip Like eels through water Then pull them down Twist and tie them to spindly, sturdy branches Build a shelter Against the clouds, the thunder, the lightning and the sour hills.
I am currently working on a collection of poetry entitled, ´La Sangre Fundamental.´ Originally from Oamaru, I am currently living in Zacoalco de Torres, Jalisco, Mexico. I see myself as a folk artist involved with the stories of the people and the mixture of stories that people bring with them, especially those that create them, as a mixture of many cultures or subconsciously as impulses, beliefs, and habits that come down through the blood without people even knowing from which blood. I am involved with the truth that lies in this essential spirit, the spirit that is at the root of humanity.