Beyond the paradise of product lines, through an economic wilderness of hollow olives & glycerine drinks, past the invisible homeless & the ghost of Ralph Waldo Emerson (his mum bringing him clean laundry), up a steaming track covered by vaporous cloud—a man with a cowboy hat will lead your pony on.
Prayer Look at this busy dance I do with my hand When I’m talking to people Shredding paper in the darkness of my pocket It is the quiet work of saying things Like bees or ants aren’t still when they build things And I admire it and I wonder why it is We put our hands together to pray I suppose we must show that our hands are not doing anything That there is finally nothing happening behind the scenes Which I can’t imagine is most honest
Pony New Lynn Actually, a whole traveling farm, a portable farm with rats and bunnies, chickens too? It was my sister’s birthday. Baths Unless my memory is playing tricks on me. The rats were white with blazing red eyes. I’m translating myself from a time when I was sure. Sex with strangers The man leading the pony in circles was wearing a cowboy hat. Sunday School There was a big pink cake with purple icing and sprinkles. Of being outside I was too big to ride the pony. By then I was a young woman.“Courtney Sina Meredith”
The Hierarchy Invisible homeless The dead Care worker Solo mother (bad suburb) Loan shark Bottom feeder Dolt Poet Casual employee PhD in Fine Arts Intern Experimental rodent Minion Serf Serf (creative industries) Mid-career journalist Ten years to go and holding on desperately “Between jobs” Climate scientist Aspirational 30-something National voter Embittered bureaucrat Petty officer Solo mother (good suburb) Will never afford a house but still think they have a chance Dull but stable Chief Executive of twelve people Tobacco lobbyist Bishop (Destiny Church) Interior designer “P” dealer Change management consultant Grand Poobah Dairy farmer, backbone of the nation “Entrepreneur” All“Victor Billot”
Victor Billot, Freya Daly Sadgrove, Lee Thomson, Zack Anderson (US), Murray Edmond, Courtney Sina Meredith, Manon Revuelta, Naomi Scully (US), Harry Moritz, Erena Shingade
“In the future (which isn’t too far off now, about fifty years or so, I’d guess), the scientists of the world will study love. Love will be the only science left to discover anything new about. The oceans, space, time, all things macro & micro, will have been measured & graphed, understood to the nth degree. But love will still mystify. Carolyn DeCarlo & Jackson Nieuwland are (will be?) two of those scientists.”
Compound Press published Fiddlehead, a long poem by Steven Toussaint, late in the Southern Hemisphere Summer of 2014 (April-ish). It has now gone out of print, but a really wonderful recording has been made of Steven reading the work in its entirety. This is great news for experiencing this poem, because one of the most compelling features that made the manuscript stand out to us was the presence of a refrain, repeated like semi-regular clockwork throughout.
We had small little reading in the crisp Autumn outdoors in order to celebrate the release of the 6th issue of Minarets, and an end to the second volume.
In the shade of Auckland’s Mount Eden volcanic cone, the Louis Adolphus Durrieu Reserve provided a quaint miniature amphitheatre setting. On account of the 24-hour liquor ban in all public parks, thermos flasks of tea & coffee were passed around, instead of the more customary ‘reading wine’.
Minarets Journal was initially conceived as a print publication. The first four issues, comprising Volume One (2012–2013), were released as small perfect bound books in limited editions. Issue Five was the first to be produced in a web format, due to a mix of economic pressures & convenience. This month has been spent digitising the four original print volumes, which can now be browsed on this website, so now everything is happily all together.