Plastic
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you see a photo of yourself / pressed behind plastic / three years old in a white skivvy In Plastic, Stacey Teague reaches beyond the frame of her known world to find a way back to te ao Maori. Hers is a complicated, joyful route, full of conversations with ancestors, old places and herself. In form these poems range from plain-speaking prose and concrete poetry to odes and spells; in mood they are just as restless, taking in those times when life feels as big as a movie screen and times when it is more like ' a loose stone to kick down the path' . Gathered here are names that travel through t...
you see a photo of yourself / pressed behind plastic / three years old in a white skivvy In Plastic, Stacey Teague reaches beyond the frame of her known world to find a way back to te ao Maori. Hers is a complicated, joyful route, full of conversations with ancestors, old places and herself. In form these poems range from plain-speaking prose and concrete poetry to odes and spells; in mood they are just as restless, taking in those times when life feels as big as a movie screen and times when it is more like ' a loose stone to kick down the path' . Gathered here are names that travel through time, failed photos of the moon, and love like a feather in the throat. There are encounters with Hine-te-iwaiwa, the bird-woman Kurangaituku, Hine-nui-te-po, and Hinemoana as she erodes the land with her wildness. This whole-hearted collection shows us how many ways there are to search for one's bones and at last get to know them.
