In Millerton, where I live, there is a house that is kept available for any local man who falls into a state of domestic disorder. It is called 'the Back House', because it is at the end of the road at the edge of the bush.
I have taken this idea to house the narrator of this poem; from a silent and separate place he looks into his own separation, and out at the world and the home he has left. Much of the information is from my own recent experiences.
The second shorter work uses one of our early scientific texts to convey a rather creepy sense of disparity between one age and another.
The third, a poem sequence, was written while my wife was sickening with a terminal illness. The poems were hidden from her sight, and so well hidden that they were lost for several years.
It is only proper that this book be dedicated to Millerton and its inhabitants.
Leicester Kyle.
July 2000.
1. The Refuge.1.
Leave, in an uncertain light
alone, with clear reason why
the past can’t be let run the
easy course you set, to ponder
all the mysteries you know,
to find the answer here in
fate, or in genetic disposition,
a childhood agenda, dependence
on a partner with learned
pattern who will sort, untie,
to tell you why. Flight’s the path,
the Back House up Valley Road,
where gorse begins the street-
lights end the water’s from
the hill and no-one calls. They’ll
let you in and let you make
time to think the reason why
no café’s safe, the friends don’t
come, the bank’s a threat, the
bills have hurry-ups don’t trust
and she’s so ill-disposed.
They come these days on call
and fast with answers to
the ways we ask and customs
that provide some hope in need,
but you might not fit you might2.
not want such circumspect of
wisdom, a fluency to set all fear
at rest and let you back into
the run, the chase that fashions
out the norm.
Good question that,
to ask and answer why like
why must you age, like why
the heart breaks and why
is my home in her, why some
people eat flesh, and why
there’s so much of it that it
scares the pants off of us.
The house is dark and after
time.
The stairs go up along the wall
to emptiness and you can’t see
the top of them. The bedroom’s
there, they’ve made the bed,
there’s cereal and toast and
fruit you’ll have to fill the
fridge yourself as no-one’s
here for love or talk there
never is for one who does
a run the way you’ve done,
Who holds his tongue and3.
keeps the reason why.
Take up your bags.
Turn on the light.
Make a fire and cook your-
self a meal.
Solitude’s a blessing to a man
who can think and do and
sort things out and make
defence of the adversities that
fall upon us in these days of
sovereignty unmade and challenges
that once slept quietly in un-
questioned acquiescence. Look
down upon the town and see
the lights that signal life, the
millions that hold the hope that
tell you of the one, the one
chance in all of them, the
millions behind those lights,
that one will have the word,
there must be one who’s
lived it through, can say yes
mate, I know, and all you
have to do for freedom, to
be free in your own noble
gender is
2. Lopped From The Tree4.
And my fine crested crowing
thing, what do I do with you
to welcome the day, when a
woman gets a whiff of it
as she does at the shops when
she bends at the car door
and says: we must have a
talk some time, we’ve a lot
to talk about, there’s a thing
I’ld like to get straight, she
says, and I say fine, come
round some day I’m at the
Back House up Valley Road
where the gorse begins and
the streetlights end and the
water comes from the hill,
but I know that nothing
ends when it’s once begun,
and the waves go on and on,
so I don’t look at her.
Crouch inside and don’t go
out lest the snipers shoot
and you’re done for when you’ve
scarce begun which could be
best, the merest act like shop-5.
ping, posting letters, greeting
woman at the café brings me
hurt. Some won’t speak and
others look (who know her
well) as if I’m screwing round
or pity for the mess I’ve made
or just unease at what to say
when I’ve made such a balls-
up of my job and a lovely
family lovely wife I’m a threat
therefore a menace to society
unstable and a blight.
They crowd a counter, mob
an aisle,
stare when I take out small-
meats for the cat, as if I am
beneath myself and leave their
trolleys in the way beside a
pile of shelvings, muse length-
ily at spices jellies packet
soups so I must edge around and
say “Excuse” and they may grunt
and shift, though some still smile,
a generous thing and some relief
to both. I bring grief, sad life
within this world yet I feel
separate from the act as if I6.
have no plan no cause no
motivation in the mind but
accident like waves with float-
ing messages. It might be best
to talk to someone with philo-
sophy, who’s vested in these
crises times and versed with
faith in human life and sees
a plan in the subconscious mind
and not in actual fate; though
he’s a god himself who sets the
plan cries ‘Time!’ and writes a
judgement. Talk, and get this
pity out, complaint at the out-
of-control. There’s pleasure in
disgorging, as counsellors well
know, and profit too.
In silence in this night alone
I grieve at my strength my
potency my wealth my inno-
cence all useless now invali-
dated cancelled by my history
as if I’m born today; I’ve
memory, but it’s flat upon
the page like a book with
no-one in it living and no7.
conversations. I stand alone,
there’s nothing lost but no-
thing to be used, the world’s a
mute and life afloat in quiet-
ude a cave and in the throat a
panic like a wave a wind a
waterfall. I’ve been lopped from
the tree in full ripeness, set by
for a while in a little while for
show, for observation, made a
bench-mark, well-preserved,
helpless, feel useless, still still.
3. What The World Is, (in parenthesis)8.
You’re fated, when experience
overwhelming the norm tum-
bles like a slip on to the coast
road and cuts you from the
trading places life depends up-
on — the bank, café, library,
friends the cinema and coun-
sellors occasions for peril
where mistakes are said and
done in the incompetence of
knowledge to be mended to the
best but never to the fullness
of ability; so there’s room al-
ways room for life to grow from
error and soil and you thrive
on the need then Wham! You’re
alone, the lines are down. They
look at you but do not see.
You’re portioned as a solitary
now.
They’re awed at your awfulness.
You shrink at this partisan atten-
tion,
but be polite — there’s power here
and that’s to be respected. It
is the code. There’s many another9.
being judged right now so get
used and get right, sure you
can stand it and that you’re
sure that you’re right in your
own self and have done right
and it’s worth being judged
wrong by all the world you
know. If you misgive yourself
your self may not be given
back, so before you begin
check the spelling of all the
more difficult words, for all
may depend upon successful
articulation, that you convey
to your mind with precision
the things that have been done
in your lonely attempt to de-
cide what
the world is,
what the word.
4. Take My Sting.10.
In the Back House I think I’m
being spied upon through knot-
holes and crude listening de-
vices; that I’m part of a film
that will show everything and
don’t know it; that I’m an
unpaid actor recruited un-
knowingly for research, exper-
iment , a snuff movie, and I
fear least I do something crude
like masturbate in the bath
or blow a nose untidily, or
wear the same underpants
three days running and get
laughed at and used as a
caricature for the demeaning
of the human race for political
ends, to undermine established
institutions. They must come
soon, and I will see an eye
or hear consultation on the
other side, impersonation of
my conscience. It would be
better to believe in God and
send these fears to the Infinite,
where they would be familiar,
(who does so much of this11.
And knows how it feels).
I rehearse as I go as I cook
as I walk to the shops ‘would
you renew this prescription
please, which I need when I
sleep, I’m stressed after leav-
ing my wife, I get cramps in
my legs and I’m so sore that
I toss and I turn and the
cat won’t sleep on my bed.’
I try my face in my mind:
‘I like your advice and thanks
for the thought but I want
to stay still, not move, to be
a view forgotten lest I hurt,
lest the waves of my motion
drown a walker on the shore,
lest a cry of mine make a
sensitive deaf, or a word
wrap an innocent in guilt.’
Would someone take my sting
my bite and make me clean
and gentle please and fit with-
in the human race etc.?
What do those see who watch12.
Me? Forgotten sex, distant youth,
behaviour in perspective, warp-
ing of a man from the norm
to the natural? I will answer
any questions that they ask,
articulate my hopes and guilts
if they will have the patience.
I will ask in my turn: What
does a man do when he’s done
his work: wander in the city
parks and cry a lost youth, a
lost significance, all the de-
partures and deaths of his
past? Or make a life from an
interior light, where shapes
are defined from within?
I will tell them, if they ask.
I will tell them what I’ve
found so far.
5. That Small Flower.13.
There are good lights around this
morning so you know it’s your
day that you can put things right
and you rejoice at the wind
from the hill and the herbs, so
you go for a walk to the mine
and sit in the sun on a piece
of iron and you think of that
last joyful mystery, the settled
years that have come to an end,
though they should have well be-
gun for this the latter part of
life, and you wonder how to
live the years ahead, to take
you to the end, to go alone or
to find company again, but
you’ve hardly the heart nor the
strength to think so you end
the guessing and climb the hill;
there by the rock where you
stop to rest is that small flow-
er you love so much in the
rushes, at your feet.
Green grow papillose O.
Good friend from the curious days,14.
days of enquiry after the rain before
the dust of tireder times, refresh-
ment sign to run young enough
run sweeney on the hills eat
bulbs and berries cabbage hearts
take shelter in the shafts chew
kawakawa leaves for pain and
kumerahou for health think spir-
tual and live like the moth invisible
except at dusk so thin you’re
edge to the wind the sun and
other wild things grow holy in
simplicity, think holocaust, the
end,
(and think of the man who
named it, who like you left all
and took to the hills, and there
did the God work, making until
the last few years where he came
and rested)
Or ask why does it look like the
rushes it grows amongst ask and
press for reply from the soil the
rock the bushes around or the
wind which must know a thing
or two for the same has blown
for many an age and she only15.
changes quarters; she must have
the info that you want in the
dust the pollen tiny grains of
scent and sound of echoes that
are other peoples’ destinies
that only need you to map this
in your mind and make ass-
essment; concentrate to end the
guessing, analyse the chroma-
somes of hairs the health of
blood; which flower the pollen’s
from; the constitution of a
thought, and you might, with
blessings and graces, come to
discover the whole oeconomy
of a man, and know with sci-
entific tact when to come and
when to be there, not to act
on rule as you do now. Not all
is mystery nor ruin just the
way it falls when it’s thrown
for you to pick up to judge
within your wealth and strong
potency the power of use,
when one’s mature and how
to make a growing chart for
this the whole of life.
6. Deep Within The Man.16.
That’s what I need, things to con-
spire and remove this sense that
separates; I need to be in-
digenous, to be a citizen
again. I’m not all new but
I’m out of the running since
I left and it’s space and still-
ness I want to move but things
that should be under are above
pressing down as if to keep me
in one place. I’m in the wild
environment, made feral un-
domesticate, predatory in a
suburban cul-de-sac, un-
recognised and disturbed to
the soul, daemonic as a man.
Is there any good to be es-
tablished? Will all be ruined
tainted until all I do is
sin so deep engraved with-
in the gender that I had
best sleep or stay sedated
locked distant in a dream in
a coma krionic, peace to women
and the world? If so I need
a cage, to make it mine, but
I’m locked out of the Back House17.
now with the key inside. Is
there someone I can ring to
let me in? there might be a
way a skylight a lavatory
louvre, unlatched light a
door ajar something rotten
to be forced; with no-one
home nor sense proprietor-
ial and all those dark rooms
as if I’m watched, studied,
to see what a man in a life
irrational will do deprived
and left with nothing of the
normal props of faith, with
nothing that he recognises but
a friend or two who might be
warm attainable for comfort
and conversation, and might
come round if they can think
of what to say; I will be
profound and prompt and
generally predictable and po-
litely question: Has this hap-
pened to me or to someone
else and Am I the cause of
this? Do you think so I will18.
ask; Be honest and don’t
fear to tell the truth. This
deep siphon welling is it me
or is it a neurosis, because
we can’t always tell and
imagine the disastrous when
it’s perfectly usual like death
disease and accident and the
abnormal (like good health) is
spared and given rights.
Who,
in a changing world,
would recognise
this?
7. The Back House.19.
The Back House is on the fault
that runs near the town and
makes the waterfall you see
on the way up, and the hills
to rise so steep behind to
shadow; they put the house
on the edge of everything,
in
the
trees.
It’s a cottage
with a kitchen at the
back, three bedrooms up the
stairs, and a whare where a
garage ought to be. The town
dam’s at the end of the road.
There are steps from the front
gate down to the creek, and
tuis. The counselling room is
in the whare and you pay.
There’s rent but it’s not much;
there’s no neighbour. You do
your own cooking and the
lawns, cleaning, fires, the
washing. No parties please
No Women and no phone.20.
You have to go to town to
ring which makes the occupa-
tions short. Be Private a big
notice says Be Quiet and Watch
Your Child. Counsel’s by appoint-
ment every afternoon but no-
one comes, you’re on your own
which is profound, and left to
work things out as expected,
which when all is said and
done is just as good as coun-
sel. You listen best to own com-
mand and have the answers
anyway with time and peace
to sort and sleep, lots of sleep
to ease the pain and wash it
like panned dirt so only grains
of gold are left and all the
muck is out. Feel the sleep in
the sound of the creek and
the birds. Feel it cream the
curdled parts your fingers
tingle eyes begin to lose control
to cross to close and arms to
drop, sounds to merge in a
cleansing run which trickles21.
into droughty places to re-
freshment. Fern and flax as
each day starts you don’t need
more. Sense and strength return
your head can come together
to work again in depths you’ve
rediscovered in yourself, you
didn’t know the strong parts,
you had forgot in the rush of
life, but that’s not new, no mir-
acle. Forget the other, and the
kids. Think of yourself. Think of
your gifts. The house has spiders
in the summer, everywhere, and
wild things come out from the
bush to sniff around,
and singing stuff.
8. I To The Counsellor.22.
Be brave, be unafraid, I will
say to the counsellor; change
is running in on eight art-
iculated legs and a seven-
jointed life; it comes like a
mist in the night, like a cat
looking for a new home. It’s
translation to another
sphere, with new lights and
new-made dews. I’m part
of it for good. I won’t go
back. I’ll stay where there’s
room, mate, where the silence
is so deep I could drown. I
can see further, and my body
fits. My mind is as sharp as
my eyes in this new world,
and my skin doesn’t need to
crease to meet the need. My
ears can hear the change of
tide and time’s pause at mid-
night. I’m to grow again, I
can tell, so I need room and
food for a renovated frame. I
don’t want talk but a window
to my own and a chair with
a book left on it, and long si-23.
lences to slip in and out of
the shadows of thought that’s
free to see its own good shape.
I will say to the counsellor:
please help me to this state
and keep me out of home again
from radio talk and the news
and those clever topics of the
day which come round once
each year of tears and pain
and sex and the need to prune;
of lawns ( a round of the set-
tled class), a plethora of sed-
imental thought, of intimate
confusions that make film.
Tell me I’m right, tell me I’m
a modern man in little Greek
characters that will endure
and enhance respect to sub-
liminal depths, and make some
say Go Away go, to the ghost
before it materialises and
eats something. It’s one
thing to have ghosts and an-
other to pay for them. Let
them superannuate I say to24.
the counsellor. I want a
new state, to spawn some
new ideals. If a man’s as
bad as they say he is they’ll
let me alone for lost, unworthy
of attention and share of a
life and not to be depended
on which is the use of a man
when nesting and not much
use even then. Make me for-
get the goals we shared
(which are dated now and
stored in the Turnbull Li-
brary, for research, and for
future re-use, I suppose, if
the time should come when
they’re received again ) in
which we pleasured, until
we reached the end, and found
like Moses, we could only see
their backs.
[You’re good friends and good25.
company, I say to my ideals,
but that’s about where it ends
at my stage in life now. I
don’t want to throw you away,
but let’s face it — you haven’t
the powers you claim and don’t
make the advertised returns.
On the other hand, where would
I be without you? But it’s
like Moses; look at all he
did for God, and got good comp-
any, adventures, a mission in
life but he wasn’t even able
to front up to the boss, and that’s
how I feel — you don’t disclose
yourselves fully, I say to my
ideals, and don’t ever let me
have a really good look. There’s
your voice, your touch, the
security of your presence and
the stability of long use, but
I never ever get to have
a really long look at you.]
9. The Doctor.26.
The doctor will say to me:
‘You’re an intelligent man,
an independent thinker and
fit for your age, but inevita-
bly you bear in your mind
the fruits of your past, your
childhood, inheritance etc.,
and it’s the consequence of
these that cause the symp-
toms you complain of, which
are insignificant in them-
selves but alarming at the
time. I rather judge (from
my experience) that the path
you have embarked upon will
cause complicating conse-
quences, imputed or perceived
guilts, and that it would be
best if you returned to your
partner and your work and
settled down. I think too that
in view of your scrupulous
personality it is best that
you remain conservative.
The experimental heightens
one, but that is your busi-
ness and you know best. It’s27.
not as if you are a young
man. However, from what
you have said I can see that
there is no significant break
between you and your wife,
and that your job is still open
to you. If you keep to your
plan to found a new style of
life I foresee an increment-
al increase in psychosoma-
tic events. The darkening
ring you complain of, the
narrowing of your field of
vision, is a striking symbol
of self-imputed self-worth,
and is also an indication
of impending migraine. The
peculiarities in your right ear,
the sensations you describe as
a nervous tic, the sudden al-
terations in pitch and sound
and popping noises, are
symptoms of a stress affect
on the muscles at the back
of your neck. As to the pain
in the palms of your hands28.
and the arches of your feet,
the less said about those the better. It
will stop, as it must, if
you do as I suggest. If you
don’t, I’ll be seeing much more
of you. I think it is time for
you to choose, and for the
choices to be weighed, which-
ever is found wanting to be
burned, then the chosen en-
gaged upon. Precision and
sincerity is all that is
needed, and a long night’s
sleep, which I can arrange.
Would you like some?
10. To Singh Batchem Singh29.
In The Morning.
To Singh Batchem Singh in the
morning I will say: But don’t
you get tired of this? You open
each day at half past six and
close at after ten. Seven days
and every day’s the same, the
paper the milk and conveni-
ence things, just a little of the
lot in this corner shop for years
now. The only thing that changes
is the weather, and you don’t
see that behind the till; don’t
you miss the Punjab, the temp-
les and the elephants at the end
of the road, and your relations,
the mango smells and those long
slow nights with music in them,
the man who fans the temple
book, and all the shoes outside.
Why do you and can you carry
on? What do you think at the
start of each day? Do you let
yourself ask questions that
might shake the frail routine?
Is it by fate that you are30.
destined to a dairy, and to
service in the midst of life
and self-sacrifice? Think of
the nucleus of this town, that
from it radiate the small things
that make life possible and
you essential — the toast the
milk the notices and news and
those forgotten eggs. But I, with
freedom as prolific as the
traffic on your road, am just
me. What do you say Singh Bat-
chem Singh? Should I claim
my gift and like you spend it
on service, squander it on gain?
Is your strength your will or
do you have another source and
solace? At night do you leave
the living, slip from the bed
when she’s asleep, take money
from the till, and keep to the
shadows down the streets,
past cineraria daphne rose
those scented things that prime
the sense, to the house that
never sleeps, its light discreet31.
its warmth subdued where the
slips that undermine your will
are tamed, your flesh restored,
new forms found in wondrous
beds and ensuite baths, and
houris on each knee. Your story
could give breath to mine, could
tell the limits of the boundaries
of faith and edges of endurance,
where to start and where not
tread. All are asked but none are
taught. In this new time I search
them out, define as instinct, in-
tuition, or implant, a skill or
desired aesthetic as intricate
as the steps of indigenous dance,
as a thought that is expressed
yet stays within the mind. All
this I must learn, and do.
11. The Psychiatrist Says.32.
The psychiatrist says: when did
you become aware of this con-
viction, and is it holistically
asserted, i.e. is your whole
person convinced body and
mind, have you parts that drag,
dreams of insecurity like un-
successful flight, lost cars; have
you limbs in pain sore eyes head-
aches neck in knots hot sweats
teeth that stand on edge at night.
Do you believe God is telling you
to do this, if so why, and what
of those who stand in your
way, what do you think of them,
the Psychiatrist says. Your wife,
do you put her in your way,
have you talked with her of
your need for celibacy and soli-
tude, what did she say, what
did you say and why do you
think you said that; and the
woman you talked to at the
café at the car, have you been
with her since. Does your wife
know, or have you been alone.
What do you think of it. Does33.
solitude fill a personal need.
How shall I put this I’m try-
ing to say: Do you feel a
peace when you’re alone a
growing peace that you’re do-
ing what you’re here for. Do
you feel you stand alone, call-
ed above the others, the Psy-
chiatrist says. Have you guilt
at leaving your wife, or a
sense of release from a knot
that is untied. Your children
I know are secure, but what
do they say, have you talked
with them, do they know and
your friends: have you asked
their opinions discussed sought
support. Why not. I sense fear.
You see what you’ve done
don’t you know don’t you see
how you’ve acted alone out
of fear that the truth might be
seen and your motives laid
bare in a way that you couldn’t
defend. I can’t say I don’t
know, it will take a few weeks34.
to sort out and a year to put
right, because health is not a
thing of single symptoms, and
comes from something other than
our hands. Why do you find
domesticity so joyless. Most
don’t stand alone. They find
life in company and death
in the single state. Do you
seek an elite, that is have
you a drive to stand out from
the rest and do you do you
think?
One hundred and thirty-five
dollars please, at the desk.
12. Tangled From A Crooked Pole.35.
There’s still no-one around so
I’ve lit the fire for the sound,
because it’s so quiet with only
a dog barking down the bot-
tom of this dead-end road,
and I like the creaking in
the stove and the crackling;
it’s a comfort on this dark
grey day with a cold wind
that blows in no particular
direction through the power
lines, which I can’t explain.
They cross tangled from a crook-
ed pole and look a futility
through this window, but I
think I could get to like
them after a time; it’s a
matter of usage like the
rest of life. The familiar gets
exceptional when you like it.
There’s rain about and the
wind’s gone down. On the
other side of the road it’s
punga and kamahi, thick
scrub with wekas picking
round like small brown dogs,
and it all goes on up the hill.36.
I think I could like it after
time, on my own here at my
pace within my means, the
boundary of my desires. I
play Mahler’s 4th., for the
opening of the gates, which
are behind the world, which
I like, and I sit still, and
think that really you have to
work out the world from with-
in your own circle, which has
no point but its boundary,
and the will to define it.
Life has no character with-
out its limitations, which
some have found are infinite
but I don’t mind, for infin-
ity is around me if I
don’t go too far, and I think
I’ll pull it in, for the peace.
I can sit in this house for
ever if no-one comes and
I don’t leave, listening to
the Gates and looking out
the window at crossed lines
and the crooked pole. It’s37.
raining now. There’s not the
wind to stir a punga frond,
yet the rain drifts in opaque
veils as if it’s being pulled
by an upper hand, and the
world is seen by a misted
eye, the edges blurred, the
content soft. I don’t know
where the sun might be, or
where directions are; I’m
happy to be still and watch
the contents of this world
in the green and the tempor-
al, so busy I’ve been in stirr-
ing the pot I’ve not till now
seen the cooking. I will sit
catatonic, not ever move
again, for the sake of one
clear sound of joy, this
rainy day.
13. In a Casserole With Towels.38.
She writes: Don’t you think
you should come home (with
dinner in a casserole in
towels). It’s been more than
a week and the children are
asking when and so is work.
It’s not urgent but they won-
der what you’ll do, and I’m
sure they’ll give promotion
if you want that. It’s getting
colder isn’t it? Joel’s not safe
with an axe and we do need
you home as soon as you can
make it, though I know you
need time out men do; and
should you be in such an emp-
ty place? Is it really good for
you, or does it make you brood,
turn you in, you start imagin-
ing? We’ve all just got to pick
up the pieces sometime or
other. It’s the best we can
do. Life’s not perfect. It’s not
a bed of dreams, is it? I want
time to be myself too but
someone’s got to mind the
kids. I’m not complaining39.
But we do just have to get
on with life in this world,
and you’re the one who mows
the lawns; there’s all the meet
the teacher things next week
too. It’s not as if it’s wrong
between us is it, and we get
on good in bed. I know you’ve
got the brains but that’s caus-
ed no trouble so far. There’s
common sense which gets
things done which I’m good
at so were you. It’s bad for
the kids not having their
father around; there’s all the
bills. It’s best if you do them.
Mind you I must say the kids
have been good but everyone
knows you’re still in town.
They give me queer looks and
it is odd you being here so
close to home and different.
People will start asking; they
think we’re going to separate,
and when I say he’s having
time out they think you’re on40.
the verge or something going
to have a breakdown. You’re
not are you, I mean you think
alright just a bit dreamy some-
times. I know you don’t want
to be like your father though
I always thought he was a
good old stick he kept a won-
derful garden. It’s your moth-
er that you’re really like you
know. I never really knew where
I was with her. He just kept on
and he always seemed happy,
but I think she gave him a
pretty hard time. Not that he
complained. I can’t think I’ve
been tough. I do wish you were
here. It’s like when a truck goes
past — there are all sorts of
noises I don’t understand.
14. To Her A Book.41.
You said to her a Book a Manu-
script a Compendium of Pensees.
These are the things stand still.
How can I stand with you
and hear the sounds of the day
that make it leave one lying
on the sofa for an hour for
the dark to tell the dawn and
you not put it on the desk;
these are the things I would —
and note with an inner ear —
things I would like to hear
at the end of it.
Indigo With Lustres.
Stand still to take a Dianella
blue an indigo with lustres on
the skin to view in other
times in ages dry the scheme
of things dear friend and food
in different places. It’s still-
ness takes the time, and see-
ing all that gets under things
can’t stand the light wants
mud you must be quiet too.
These things like a change in42.
the weather can only be seen
from a firm perspective else
the cloud won’t precipitate
into voices as good weather
does at home when it’s watch-
ed so still and quiet is what
I want to be alert to the
whispers in umbilicals of life
at my feet and elbows and
in the room where it happens
still in the partitioned room.
A Canto Of Desires.
Where there’s earth a bush can
grow; things do that can only
have root that would be done
in the time in a founding
time. I have a Canto of De-
sires a Rubaiyat of Apoph-
thegms to take to tell in a
rooting time it takes to fall
for the winter quiet to sleep.
Would you let me sleep at our
end I can’t unless I still
the shakers of this world
that move like my desires re-
venge and growth for more
that move me. This is my heart43.
my dear my head my envisag-
ing can take no more but
stop and look at something
underneath and know and
understand one thing if only
one like why the flower’s like
the grass and how I fit in
another man’s rain for him as
much for the one it rains on,
the smell as much for me the
growth and beneficial by-
products like steam again
stand in the fog and think of
that: one man’s flesh is ano-
ther’s folly, and float with your
philosophy in mushroom
time, in paddocks with a
little weed, ephemeral as a
golden age, acrostic-
THE
ARANEIDEA
Art. xxxvi.—An introduction to the study and collection of the Araneidea in New Zealand. With a Description and Figures of Cambridgea fasciata, L. Koch, from Chatham Island; and also of a new species of Macrothele, Auss., M. huttonii, Cambr., found at Wellington, New Zealand. By the Rev. O.P. Cambridge, M.A., C.M.Z.S.
(Read before the Wellington Philosophical Society, 22nd. Sept. 1873. )
1.–SYSTEMATIC POSITION AND GENERAL STRUCTURE
11.–DISTRIBUTION AND HABITS.
111.-MODE OF SEARCH AND CAPTURE.
IV.–MODE OF PRESERVATION AS CABINET OBJECTS.
1. Beautiful as are the colours and markings of numbers
of spiders, especially of those found in the tropics,
Yet it is not easy to make good-looking, sightly cabinet
objects of the Araneidea;
It is possible, however, to display a large proportion of
them very satisfactorily,
If care and dexterous manipulation are used.
3.
“Though many live a vagabond existence,
and capture their prey by merely springing upon it,
or running it fairly down in open view,
yet craft and skill are equally apparent,
whatever be their mode of life.”
4.
2. Many species, whose abdominal integument is strong
and thickly coated with hairs,
May be pinned, dried, and set out for display;
The abdomen may in some cases be opened from
beneath,
And after the contents are extracted stuffed with cotton
wool;
Others may have the abdomen inflated with a blow-pipe,
Then a rapid drying prevents the obliteration of colour
and markings.
5.
“The male is nearly always the smallest,
though his legs are often much the longest.”
6.
3. The best way to preserve colour, markings, and form,
for scientific purposes,
(and with some little extra care and trouble, as cabinet
object also)
Is to immerse and keep them in spirit of wine, or other
strong liquor.
Enclose them within a flat under-glass and a concave
upper one.
Set the spider out (in spirit) in a natural position, until
the limbs are rigid;
It is then laid on its back in the concave glass.
The flat glass is laid on the concave one.
The two are cemented together.
7.
“With regard to the search for spiders and their capture,
it might almost be sufficient to say:
search everywhere, and capture in every practicable way.
There is scarcely any conceivable locality
but what some species or other of spiders may be found
in it.”
8.
4. The spider may then be seen in every direction,
And it looks like a living creature swimming inside.
9.
“Colours and markings,
although at times liable to mislead,
are yet nearly always specifically characteristic,
and therefore should be carefully noted before they fade,
or run into one another.”
10.
5. The objections to this mode are its comparative
costliness
And the inevitably enclosed air bubble;
Which presence may be rendered harmless by tilting the
whole in the cabinet drawer;
This fully presents the spider to the eye,
And frees it from contact with the air bubble,
But seals it from all higher scientific examination and
dissection.
11.
“Spiders of large size,
especially those with soft and tumid bodies,
preserve their form and colour best
if kept prisoner for a few days
without food
in a pill box.”
12.
6. There is another mode which leaves the spider free for
scientific investigation,
While it is yet made a pleasing sight for ordinary
observers:
First catch the spider in a pill-box, and render it
motionless by a few drops of chloroform;
When perfectly insensible it is set out and secured in a
natural position on a piece of wood or cork,
By means of pins placed wherever needed, (except
through any part of the body);
The whole is then placed in a shallow jar, in spirit, to
cover the spider completely;
13.
“Even subterranean caves,
such as those of Adelsbery and the Island of Lesina,
are tenanted by species peculiarly adapted,
by the absence of eyes,
to their dark and gloomy abodes.”
14.
7. The jar is then closed over, and allowed to remain
undisturbed
Until the limbs have become sufficiently rigid, by the
action of the spirit,
To allow the removal of the pins without affecting the
natural position of the spider;
This will take place in a week or ten days, more or less,
according to circumstances;
The longer it is allowed to remain, the less chance there
is of the legs curling afterwards.
15.
“The legs,
eight in number,
are articulated to the Sternum
and are usually seven-jointed,
variously furnished with hairs bristles and spines,
each Tarsus ending with two or three claws.”
16.
8. When removed, after the limbs have become rigid,
The spider is put carefully, with the fore-legs downward,
Into a test-tube just large enough to admit it freely,
Without unduly compressing the articulated parts.
17.
“Collectors often complain
of the brittleness of spiders’ legs,
but in most cases
the throwing of a leg
results from the instinct of self-preservation,
which teaches the spider
to give up something,
rather than lose all.”
18.
9. Previously insert into the test-tube a slip of white
card-board,
Exactly the width of the diameter of the tube, and about
three-fourths of its length;
This slip of card-board is to make a back-ground to the
spider, and to keep it in position.
19.
“The search for spiders has this advantage
over that for insects in general:
spiders cannot escape by taking wing.”
20.
10. The tube is then filled perfectly full of clean spirit of
wine.
A parchment label containing the name of the spider is
inserted in an inverted position,
So as to coil round next to the glass, just above the
spider.
The tube’s mouth is firmly stopped with a pledglet of
cotton wool;
After which it is placed wool downwards, in a broad-
mouthed glass-stoppered bottle,
Large enough to contain a good number of tubes, ranged
in a single row
Close to the glass, and kept in place by a central plug of
cotton wool firmly filled;
The large glass-stoppered bottle is then topped up nearly
to the brim with spirit.
21.
“The eyes are variously disposed,
but always symmetrically on the fore part
of the aphalic segment.
The number and general position of the eyes
form one valuable character for the formation of genera,
while their relative value is strongly specific.”
22.
11. When bottles so filled are arranged on narrow shelves
not too far from the eyes,
They have a very neat appearance, and allow the spiders
to be seen perfectly —
Of course, the bottle must be taken in hand to examine
the contents at all closely,
And must be turned round to bring those spiders on the
opposite side into view.
23.
“Besides their craft and skill,
spiders are cleanly in their habits.
I have several times watched Calliethera histrionica
engaged in brushing and cleaning
its forehead and eyes
with its hairy palpi.”
24.
12. For critical purposes,
Any tube may be taken out
And the spiders themselves removed without injury or
difficulty;
It is only necessary to use a pair of fine pliers to handle
the specimens,
And a pair of longer and larger ones, with padded points,
to place or remove the tubes.
The label with the spider’s name can be easily read
through both the tube and the bottle,
If put in so as to coil closely round the inside of the
former.
It then cannot be rubbed off, and it can be removed and
placed at will.
25.
“One rule to observe as much as possible,
and that is:
not to capture spiders with the fingers
if it can be avoided.”
26.
13. After many trials of managing spiders in test-tubes of
spirit,
I can at last pronounce the above plans to be entirely
satisfactory.
When stopped with corks the spirit was quickly and
constantly evaporating;
Besides which, the corks soon became rotten with the
action of the spirit.
27.
“The comparative extent of the facial space
is of great importance as a specific character,
and is of easy observation;
That part of the facial space occupied by the eyes
is concisely expressed by the term ocular area.”
28.
14. As the greater part of my own collection is intended
for scientific purposes,
I only take the trouble to set out here and there a
specimen
For the delectation of unscientific or ‘goodness gracious’
friends;
For when set out they occupy, of course, far more space
in a tube
Than when put in just as they happen to come out
From the effect of chloroform or other stupefying agent.
29.
15. A single tube will thus contain up to twenty or more
examples unset,
But never more than one species in a tube, and often
only one sex.
In all cases the name should be placed in each, as above
described.
Glass-stoppered bottles containing wool-stoppered tubes
of unset spiders,
May be filled quite full of inverted tubes,
And the names written at length on a paper and gummed
upon one side of the bottle,
So as to be legible without any necessity of handling.
30.
16. I am now using (and finding more handy and
convenient than any other)
Strong wide-mouthed phials (corked, but glass-stoppered
ones would be preferable,
Though much more costly) of the following sizes:-
1/2oz., 1oz., 2oz., and 4oz;
These are kept in stock by most chemists’ bottle-dealers,
and at a reasonable price.
The tubes vary from an inch and a half long to three
inches long,
And these are not too large, but are yet large enough to
contain the largest tropical spiders.
31.
17. When thus preserved and arranged on narrow shelves
in systematic position,
A collection of spiders is by no means an unsightly
object,
And its contents are as easily got at for reference and
examination
As the contents of most insect cabinets.
1.
You on the couch
me on my chair
the fan the children gave us rattling
a little sound of Chabrier
from Concert F.M.
as usual on a Friday night
with fish & chips & L.& P.
my choice
I read S.F. (on Fridays)
you N.Z. (women)
as usual on a Friday night
no change
to speak of
no change I see to speak of
that the crab has pincers out
on your hair
your flesh
to the skull beneath
is nothing
to speak of
2.
the bed
where you pale
and deliquesce
I reach
to ease your pains
but touch the wounds
and burn upon your rawness
my finger-tips made terminal
you bear the impress of my long slow flesh
my sacrament
my host
to death reserved
3.
where they cut
they stitch
black thread
from edge to edge
it seams
tucks
puckers
a patch at the end
of darning
a sock
a tear in a shirt
holding in the ravelling
the untied end
of a mortal coil
4.
Lit against the window light of broad white sky
reflected sea and sheets
and panels technological
excited by the fussy nurse
arranged by regulation —
Don’t I look well
(you tell me)
I feel so fit
your colour is crustacean
no choir cathedral concert psalm
can raise me
(I must be more composed)
You say
(when you’re raddled with your fate)
you say
They Wait For Me To Die
For what else?
5.
How protestant my mind
that this is sent
for trial
for test
refining fire
a punishment for sin
a due reward
a sign of perverse love
(omniscient)
and combinations
I’m learning
that death
has one purpose and one habitat
It favours dark
lives in the mud
flat under rocks
I’m learning
of the species
in your tenebrous self
6.
some tree might
in leaf infusion
powdered root
bark tea
and blood-red gum
some trees might
let down their help
to cleanse the blood
restore a balance lost
in a spent inheritance
unseen unguessed-at fleshly sin
tired mind
some tree might distil
elixir milk for human kindness
bring joyful news
from a new-found world
incline with salve
for crabbed capillaries
cankered bones
7.
You scrabble down
the coralline crust
to crib at the edge
of the sea
sideways
cautiously clinging
at the sea flinging
itself at you
sideways
feeding at the edge of depth
breathing when the water’s out
slantwise
lest the great deep sees
you
harbour
strength at the last
harbour
and grip the bed
as if your strength still
holds you
8.
Death is a cold wet thing
a slip in the fog
to a sink of sleep
a slip in the fog
a slip a sleep
a slip in the fog
a sink in sleep
a slip
•
© Leicester Kyle, 2000
•
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