Skull Cave

Kevin’s dad dropped us off 

At the end of the road

So he could show us the Skull Cave

You have to know where to go 

In the sea of uluhe, ohia, wild orchids

How to look for the crumbled rock entrance

And climb way back where

the day’s warmth never reaches

And there on a rock shelf,          

some ancient skulls rested

We turned the flashlight off

There is a kind of dark

that exists inside caves

It’s not the dark you get 

when you close your eyes

or in your bed at night

when the lights are off

It is the total absence of light

You start to feel you are floating

In the centre of the Earth

or inside your own head

When we climbed back out

we waited to be picked up

We laid down on the hot, cracked tarmac

at the end of the road

the dense jungle smells blowing over us

We showed Kevin the game

Where you close your eyes

And you press the heels of your hands over them

And you start to see things

We laid with our heads on each other’s stomachs

so we formed a sort of human trinity knot

and told each other our visions

until the images inside our heads

started to converge 

I reached for that Skull Cave so many times

in the years of adolescent turbulence

Sometimes I could travel all the way down

to that darkness, that stillness, that quiet

But it's the glow of connection I reach for now

our hands pressed tight against the sun

our heads resting on each other

trying to weave together our very thoughts

Time Warps

13: Dammit, Janet 

My cousins are visiting from Florida and they say they went to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show and they did audience participation. They try to explain what that is but I can’t make any sense of it. The next time I’m at my aunt’s house I mention it to her. She says that I should really see it. She says that she saw that movie as a young woman and it changed her life. So I have to find out what it’s all about.

I ask my parents to rent the video the next time we are at Blockbuster and I sit on the carpet in our living room and watch it and it’s confusing and exciting and weird. I feel like Janet, thrust into a world I don’t understand. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. My mom comes in toward the end and switches it off when she sees the orgy scene in the pool. I am shocked that my auntie encouraged me to watch this. She seems so normal, so domestic. And I still don’t know what audience participation is. 

15: There’s A Light 

They’re showing the Rocky Horror Picture Show for Halloween. With audience participation! Me and my friends - we are prepared. We looked on the Internet and we found a list of what to shout and what to throw and when to throw it. We printed out the list and rented the video and practiced. I’m going to be Magenta because I’ve already got the frizzy hair and I’ve still got my white apron and black mini skirt from a play I was in last year.

Vincent shows up at my house dressed as Brad, looking awkward with his scruffy mullet and an oversized suit he probably borrowed from his dad. I can’t imagine why he’d choose the most boring character in the whole movie. But I guess it was the safe option.

We have to get my parents to drive us out to the little hippie town of Pahoa to the ancient Akebono Theater with its creaky wooden seats. We have got our costumes and our makeup, our toilet paper rolls and newspapers and water guns. There’s no shadow cast, no virgin initiation. But we get to shout rude words and throw things and it’s amazing. We can’t really explain why but it’s important. We are all weird little theater kids. Probably a lot of us are queer, but we don’t know how to talk about it yet. We don’t have queer role models. We don't have Chappell Roan or Heartstopper. But once a year, we have the Rocky Horror Picture Show. 

17: Don’t Dream It 

It’s my senior year and the Akebono is doing something different this time. They are doing the actual play of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Not a screening, not a shadow cast. Only last year we begged our drama club teacher to let us do this play and she said it was really hard to get the rights. But maybe she just thought it was too risque for high school. We get all dressed up and bring our props; they are still doing audience participation. The experience is magical. They guy playing Frank-n-Furter is glorious. There’s a moment near the end, after all the chaos and murder. Things get quiet and the lights go down and he’s in the spotlight singing “Don’t dream it, be it,” sweat and glitter shimmering on his face. There’s toilet paper trailing off the ceiling fan making slow swirls above us through the warm night air. 

28: I’m Going Home 

It’s only been a year since me and my partner moved to New Zealand but it's already starting to feel like home. When I hear that Rocky Horror is playing at the most beautiful grand old theater in Wellington, of course I have to go. My partner and my new friends are coming with me. I’m going to be Columbia because I’ve got the right hair - cropped short year round. I’ve dyed it red for the occasion.

When we arrive at the theater we are handed prop bags. The Embassy is big with ornate carved wood paneling. The chairs have plush upholstery and cup holders. I have a great time, though my friends don’t have the same connection to the experience that I do. There’s a shadow cast which really does add another dimension. My high school friends would have loved it.

I used to go as Magenta because I wanted to be her - wild, bold, bad-ass. But I can admit now that I’ve always been more of a Columbia. She acts cool and terrifying like the rest of her crew, but deep down she’s kind and sensitive and quick to love and sometimes that gets her in trouble. But I’d like to think I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’m more comfortable being myself these days. 

44: Super Heroes

I talked to a friend about this thing I'm writing, and it turns out they have a history with the show too; they get it. I found out that the Embassy is still doing a show every September. We’ve just missed it, but maybe we’ll go next year. I’m feeling thankful for the organisers who have been keeping the show going in Wellington. The Akebono is long gone now, closed down and then torn down, but something occurs to me that I’d never thought of before. All those years ago, there must have been some Rocky Horror fanatic that made it all happen. I thought we didn’t have any queer elders looking out for us, but there must have been someone working behind the scenes, conjuring that space for us, a fairy godmother we never met.

All I Saw When I Didn’t See The Aurora

Searching for a shimmering dream

turquoise, peach and tangerine

Danced across our dreaming minds

Wonders which we hoped to find

All we found - a darkened beach

Grey and silver light had bleached

Strewn like driftwood ‘long the coast

People perched like watchful ghosts

Stopping later 'top the the hills 

One more chance to see it still -

Gentle teal and azure blue

Softest pinks, a hazy hue

Only city lights below

Beyond, the harbour’s tranquil glow

Other seekers strolling by

Searching grey and dusky sky

Woke up feverish from my dreams

Of elusive vivid streams

Emerald, chartreuse, key lime pie

Snaking phantoms up the sky

Outside nothing there to see 

Shivering down a dark wet street

Dove and charcoal, silver, smoke

Glint of light the wind can stoke

Son and I strolled down the street

Darkened schoolyard - there to seek

Amethyst and autumn reds

Lavenders in silky threads

Only saw what streetlights show

Urban lights set clouds aglow

Starlight danced across his hair

Dancing, humming, spinning there

Stood under the sky alone

Just beyond the glow of home

Didn’t think of vivid greens

Subtle shades of salmon’s sheen

Watched the stars spark smokey sky

Clouds behemoths drifting by

Thought of all that’s left to seek

Crept back in and went to sleep

 

 

 12 May 2024 

That we can still dance

I stood just outside the door

Where the air was cool

I stood, mask off, face hot

I saw my friend dancing 

Trying something new

I saw an elderly couple dancing

Even when the music stopped

I saw a mother dancing 

Spinning her daughter round and round

I saw everyone dancing

And my head was spinning

But I couldn't stop grinning

That we can still dance

Even when the day was lost

And we face impossible odds

We can still dance 

That I can still dance

Even when my breath betrays

And my hope has flown away

I can still dance

We started in a circle

It felt like figure dancing

And line dancing too

Step, step, clap, spin

Change of partners

Hello, it's nice to meet you

Like when we danced a jig

At the Starry Plough

Like the electric slide

In middle school 

A spinning, dancing line

Following me through time

That I can still dance

The world forever changed

My heart feeling this pain

But I can still dance

That we can still dance

Outside the freezing rain 

beats at the window panes

But we can still dance

 

 15.5.23  

Do not become a tourist

Do not become a tourist 

in your own life

Rushing from one attraction

to the next

Ticking off every destination

In the book

Be an explorer

Wander off the page

Be curious

get lost

Do not take pictures

Of the view

Flatten the landscape

Between the pages 

Of your book

You are not here

To make memories

 

Instead make mistakes

Make friends

Make a mess

Make the best of it

Make it up as you go

 

17.7.23 

In The Tall Grass

 I just came across an old journal entry that explains a bit about what In The Tall Grass means to me. It's not a poem, though maybe I should turn it into one. Here is an extract from that journal entry:

A catcher in the rye is like a teacher, creating a safe space for children to be free, to be wild, to be themselves. We gathered the tall grass in the field next door, because ours was too short, and we hung it up around the hosue. I want a house where I can let the grass grow tall, and plant what I like where I like and not care what the neghbours think.

A front lawn, in our society, is like a woman's body, subject to public scrutiny, fair game for comment and criticism by anyone viewing it. It never just is. It is always on display. A well kept lawn is a landing strip. Is a Brazillian. A meadow is a bush.

Grass let grow tall is free to reveal it's true identity, it's full height, its shape and colour, grow seeds and be fertile, the seeds grow in such a beautiful diversity of shapes and patterns. A lawn let grow wild becomes an ecoystem, with buttercups, little white daisies, sturdy dandelions, and so many other things. One can lie in the tall grass and watch the butterflies. In a meadow, one can be wild and free. One doesn't need to do anything to justify being in a meadow. 

One is ON a lawn, and one might feel the need to play croquet or barbecue or throw a frisbee or play catch or… One is IN a meadow and all that needs doing is simply being there. Looking at butterflies perhaps. Laying down, one is surrounded by the tall grass, embraced by nature, and one can simply be satisfied to look at the sky.

Origami City II

This is an origami city and

sometimes the lines

have been folded over so many times

if I run my thumb along once again

the washi paper rubbed so thin

I could trace these terraces

with half closed eyes

layers underneath starting

to show through (to show their lines)

I went to a show at Meow

and there's this place I used to go -

Next door, above whats now

a Japanese restaurant

I lean back, try to see the second floor

those beauful old windows

This was a special place once

 We used to dance, we used to -

I just see office desks now

through dust-filmed windows

this space used to be

ours

It's Valentine's Day and I'm meeting

a new friend at an old haunt

and this is a love letter

to my origami city

this wind swept place of 

outsiders and playful hipsters

artist and realists

this the only city

that ever stole my heart

 

February 14th, 2020