an expert trainer of acrobatic fleas
he throws missiles and horse-chesnuts
lined up on three sides of a square we continue in that role today
7
GROUND ZERO
: the floor . . .
see what happens after creating art
from accidents and vandalism . . . show me a face worthy of love
stencils of hands - mysterious ions, or shamanistic rituals . . .
powers for a better life
my aim is to improve this situation safeguard the local environment
there is a string down the middle a loop at the base
..........distance unwinding ...
a train running eastwards: four trains in each direction
yesteryear the omnibus carried the byway
time rents a moving truck
on the horizon a cowboy props up his horse.
The Tombstone Epitaph
I
a cowboy on his horse props up the horizon . . .
fourteen hundred dollars and a faro layout were found in his room
II
the horizon on his horse a cowboy propped up
The Epitaph gives an account of the killing (The Tucson Daily Citizen
indorses the news) while no particulars are published the whole story is
too well known to require repetition
III
propped up on the horizon a cowboy his horse
... headed for Albuquerque being pursued by an Arizona posse two
desperadoes and five of their confederates arrive on the Atlantic & Pacific
Express, the party are outlaws and fugitives from justice, without doubt
the most desperate men now at large
IV
his horse on the horizon a cowboy pops up
(while in town) the party’s presence is withheld by local
papers described briefly in a letter: the complete text of the letter
decontextualised . . . gamblers and saloon men are running things
... there is a general feud in and about Tombstone a continuous war
between the two factions
V
props up on the horizon a cowboy his horse
Virgil is the city marshal of Tombstone he holds the peace and quiet in the
hollow of his hand . . . wounded he is now at his home in San Bernardino
VI
his horse up on a horizon the cowboy stops
hardly a day in which a cocked revolver had not been levelled at someone
(seven dead cowboys bearing witness to the accuracy of their aim) two
lives taken for each one lost
VII
the cowboy stops his horse upon a horizon
they have become a terror to the entire country, telegraphs from
Tombstone . . . party departs leaving earlier than expected after an argument . . .
VIII
on a horizon his horse up pops the cowboy
(it appears that in Tombstone a general feeling of regret was still very
much alive: the quarrel referred to would be the same one mentioned in the
letter)
IX
props the cowboy his horizon upon a horse
inferentially words cannot express the regret felt - the unhappy result
of triggernometry - the intended reparation will have to be deferred to a
singular type of desperado, if a desperado at all
X
a horse upon his horizon a cowboy stops
your true fighting man talks very little of his exploits, removed from the
scene rioters and frontiersman in general they were men whose deeds
became known among the rounders
XI
a cowboy stops his horizon up on the horse
they left Arizona and came to Albuquerque (seven in all) they would not
give themselves up, knowledge of their whereabouts would bring a posse
of cowboy avengers down upon them
XII
on the horse a cowboy props up his horizon
(the party disbanded) Tombstone supplied a posse of man-hunters who it
appears this morning at last found their prey . . .
XIII
his horizon cropped the cowboy horse (once) upon a . . .
P.S. Virgil Earp was not among the group that made its way to Albuquerque.
The latest news from the quondam Albuquerqueans, the Earp crowd, is that
Wyatt, Warren and Virgil Earp are in San Francisco, engaged in dealing faro.
Texas Jack is in Colorado, Doc Holliday in Leadville, McMasters and Johnson
in Mexico, and Tipton in the Gunnison country.
Unearthed Vestiges
Flashlight on a broken column
six linked inscriptions
unearthed vestiges
youthful vigour, rickshaws haul-
ing yesterday’s diffusion
the rhythms of conversation
familiar hills : topography . . .
worn apart by rapid repetition
wheels pulling outer sparks in-
wards . . .
to be turned about completely
having uncovered a serious flaw
building sentences: set of fields woven together . . . across : cross-
stitched, a little bit tighter around outskirts
connecting a small revolutionary component
mark it strengthen it (in other regions)
stick it:
interplay between
icono-
stases
____________________
surface, fresh battle grounds mix
shell-game urgency
just allow them to fidget
occidental disturbances will affect sustainability
wayward we expect this to be a decisive test
a sizeable difference in arrival times
illusions creating a sacred place
craters . . . clusters, circling further out
bottom-line excavations
_______________
sectionals
a tiny fraction of a second
tell-tale footprints : time’s unseen ghosts
this year will plug generalities
sensitive enough
to produce a flash of light . . . élan
what will slip through unseen . . .?
constellation as gear to the swarm
we need both approaches: this is not the same story
surveying the whole sky once every few days
twice building an unprecedented picture of perspective
reverence, I think . . . heightened readings
there could be a sting in this tale,
myriad faint, or invisible celestial circuitry.
I’ll tie myself to her voice
scene pulled from frame to frayed edge
knot-to-knot . . . to pull backwards that tapestry of dress
(yes, the pattern returns triumphant)
crux of the matter, to go on . . . wistfully
could not she?
of course life-lines feeding the concrete
clear-cut she is sparrow-like and fierce,
thin . . . angular, with the hollow-eyed look
she could reach people with her mimicry
a little melancholic roust
an elegiac circus and under this whirling
her manic joy . . . streaming in and out-of-breath.
for my mother, a whirling dervish on her 60th birthday
My leaves have drifted from me. All. But one clings still. I’ll bear
it on me. To remind me of. Lff! So soft this morning, ours. Yes.
Carry me along, taddy, like you done through the toy fair!
— James Joyce, Finnegans Wake
Six Reels of Joy
... as shadow a light and body
in the pres
ent tense . . . a quint-
essence
a paly of six argent and azure
a cinquefoil gules in the centre of a sun
(names displaced by light
are dark but not lost . . .
) . . . Miss Lucia
2
in my headiness
light against the Earth’s axial tilt
against the axes of both bodies
(glass) bodies
of alphabetical bones
one
by one, scattered frames . . . the low off-
shore islands . . . over-
lapping scraps of the water’s reflection
3
re-verse soundings :
mirror images
of mother father
da & ma
the nature of divination
between saint and certitude
to within a second . . . scenarios
like the sunrise centred and sunset rendered
(or vice versa)
4
Zeroth Zohar Zygote
tracking . . . shadow this, take and come up
shadow, come to the present . . . the sur-
face . . . the Lion the Light the Luminous
5
August
heart
head
helix
DNA X
tracing
Y
(past Adam’s Peak and Zion Track, from swerve of-shore to bend of-bay
to Z of-land . . . Zzzzzzz . . . sunrise . . . a-
wake, Lucia re-
6
: dialectical
the pull and push
part and parcel . . . the abstract un-
folding lucid
the birth, the human, the light
THE HUMAN-LIGHT
flowing out and through us
this
is flesh
daughter
a likeness (chorus)
of that unknown rushing
(through
us)))))))))))))))))
the pulse trace
elements
arc-
ing
through
us
luna . . . (lady) leo (baby) . . .
lupus (gypsy) . . . lux-
Lucia.
for my daughter
Notes
The epigraph on the dedication page is from Samuel Beckett, Worstward Ho (London: John Calder, 1983), p. 13.
‘Halcyon Ghosts’ builds its form from Harvey Benge’s bookwork Birds. The photographs were taken from the deck of a Devonport ferry as it headed into Auckland Harbour on the afternoon of Thursday, 15 July 2010. The first epigraph is from Michael Palmer’s Thread (New York: New Directions, 2011), p. 90; many thanks to Michael Palmer for permission to use this text.
The second epigraph is from John Cage, ‘Lecture on Commitment’ (1961), in A Year from Monday (Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 1967), p. 119.
‘Erasure’ is dedicated to Don Binney (1940-2012), an artist and conservationist best known for his paintings of birds. Geoff Moon (1915- 2009), naturalist and exceptional bird photographer, is also an inspiration for this piece.
‘Flushed from a Tidal Retreat’ has its origins in the oldest unequivocal document of origami, a short poem composed by Ihara Saikaku in 1680. It is dedicated to my father, Colin John Sampson (1944-2014).
‘All the Everlasting Cataracts’ is a line from Keats’s ‘Hyperion’ (1819).
‘I Spilled My Story’ was part of the collaborative exhibition You Have Changed Me Already (with artist Peter Madden) at the Ivan Anthony Gallery, March 2012, Auckland.
‘Broken Architecture’ is dedicated to poet C. K. Stead. After reading ‘Broken Architecture’ Karl replied in kind, with the poem ‘Back then (but briefly)’ (The Yellow Buoy, Auckland University Press, 2013, p. 69), which he says ‘strangely turned out to be “about” visiting the grave of Dylan Thomas in 1957’.
‘The Tombstone Epitaph’ uses excerpts from articles and newspaper clippings collected at BlongerBros.com. The title is taken from the Arizona-based monthly publication (est. 1880) - the oldest continually running newspaper in Arizona.
Halcyon Ghosts recycles source material from writers: Rae Armantrout, Samuel Beckett, John Cage, Peter Cole, John Donne, T. S. Eliot, Barbara Guest, James Joyce, John Keats, Michael Palmer, Gustaf Sobin, Wallace Stevens, Dylan Thomas and Louis Zukofsky.
For more information on the author and associated collaborations, please visit: www.samsampson.co.nz
•
Many of these poems appeared, sometimes in a slightly different form, in: Best New Zealand Poems 2012, Cordite Poetry Review, JAAM, Turbine and Shearsman Magazine.
Broken Architecture / Salt Away (2010), with Andrew Grace, a selection of poems, was published as part of the Duets chapbook series, which pairs poets from New Zealand and the United States.
... exclusivity dwells in habitat (FAQEDITIONS: 2012) was published as a collaborative bookwork with photographer Harvey Benge.
Thanks to the team at Auckland University Press, especially; Anna Hodge, Katrina Duncan, Sam Elworthy and Christine O’Brien who have been a pleasure to work with.
And love as always to Jacinda, whose extraordinary support made this book possible; and Lucia, our daughter, who twists and turns throughout this collection . . . of time past and time future . . .
Sam Sampson was born in Auckland, New Zealand, and grew up in Titirangi. His poetry has been widely published in journals and chapbooks, and his first collection with Auckland University Press, Everything Talks, won the NZSA Jessie Mackay Best First Book Award for Poetry at the 2009 book awards.
First published 2014
Auckland University Press
University of Auckland
Private Bag 92019
Auckland 1142
New Zealand
www.press.auckland.ac.nz
© Sam Sampson, 2014
eISBN 978 1 77558 738 5
A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand
This book is copyright. Apart from fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without prior permission of the publisher. The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
Author photograph: Josh Hetherington
Cover image: decomposed nitrate film clipping from the Turconi Collection, Moving Image Department, George Eastman House, International Museum of Photography and Film
Cover design: Jacinda Torrance, Verso Visual