glass eye

After all these years, the joy
of seeing remains.
Photo: Window and reflection


Another Sunday today, and I 
remember this day in a chapel 
in a city by the sea,
not a Sunday.
Photo: In Pokfulam, Hong Kong


Numbers waiting 
to be sung.
Photo: At a church in England


Maybe I am as curious
as these children may be.
Photo: In a small town in England


We call this moment a rainbow.
Photo: L. at a swimming hole, New Zealand

river and creek

These shoes were a gift
from a friend I call River.
We wear the same size 
though she is inches shorter 
and here I stand 
by a kind of creek
and think of her.
Photo: At Greytown Old Hospital


We saw our first eel
in the creek today.
It was about 35cm.
Photo: Measurement for fish to be put back in the water 


The world is not a conclusion.
Photo: An unused banquet room
Text: From Emily Dickinson

this and that

Hope. Please come 
this way, that.
Photo: Along a driveway, 
Masterton, New Zealand


A photographer loves to look
Photo: The back of a coffee machine, Wellington


To walk into this square
is to walk into wonder, and I love 
the building covered in white,
as if the sky
is also playing.
Photo: An installation in Paris, 2012


The leaning looks like someone 
telling a joke.
Photo: Somewhere in Paris

one promise

Each loved world
needs one
Photo: Somewhere in Auckland

two roads

Many of us, people and dogs 
alike, take these roads
One road leads to town,
another to river.
Photo: Off North Road, Greytown, New Zealand


Today we met a woman who spins 
and weaves alpaca, sheep, 
siberian husky...
Photo: Off Waohine Gorge Road

body of air

Kikorangi, the Maori word 
for blue: sky flesh.
Photo: Foreground fountain 
and sky above Aotearoa,
The Land of the Long White Cloud,
also known as New Zealand

I am

an optimist.
Photo: Blossoms 
in the Wairarapa, New Zealand


It's my birthday today.
All is living and dying, again.
Photo: Ta Chiu, Hong Kong
A festival of renewal

more than one

Czeslaw Milosz: The purpose 
of poetry is to remind us / 
how difficult it is to remain one person.
Photo: Our garden in winter, New Zealand

2500 + 2013

Standing for over four thousand years.
Photo: Dolmen, 2500 BC, Ireland


We all need space, 
as do the tops of trees.
Photo: Kahikatea trees, Wairarapa, New Zealand

swan line

Swans reach, eat 
as much willow as
their beaks allow.

Photo: Henley Lake,
Wairarapa, New Zealand

a Paris moment

The accordionist had just seen 
us looking and began
to play as if only for us
(and our coins). Thank you.
Photo: On the Metro

thinking of a place

I am thinking of the next 
exhibition, a place 
for the images 
to live for a while.
Photo: My exhibition 'delicate access'
with my home furtniture in the gallery

singing, a healthy thing

I read of a man who gets together 
each week with friends to sing.
He says it is a healthy thing for him, 
and I agree. Brian Eno, please come 
'round here if you like, too.
Photo: Pinecones, Hong Kong

two tongues

A moment ago, our cats
were both cleaning themselves.
Two very busy tongues. 
The sound of tongue on fur is not soft.
Photo: In a museum, Paris

we walk the river

                               We walk the river.
                               Rock, sand, slime, gorse.
                               We walk hours of water,
                               sure of place, sound, bend.   
                                                                Text: From an unpublished poem, Photo: Mount Holdsworth, New Zealand         


Photo: Curb and sidewalk
somewhere in Hong Kong


A beautiful thing.
Photo: Bougainvillea, Hong Kong
Happy birthday S and H


Today we gather 
around poetry.
Photo: Cherry tree, Featherston, New Zealand

birth and music

Today is the birthday of a sister, 
and I think of music together: dancing 
in our basement  as children, singing 
to the radio and stereo, and imagining 
a performance of all five sisters. 
For you, S. 
Photo: Two friends Poly and Orlando performing, 
Wellington, New Zealand

warm and open

These mushrooms are just 
the way I always want to be.
Photo: In the Wairarapa, New Zealand


I think about doing something 
with these eleven slabs, do you?
Photo: Sea wall, Peng Chau, Hong Kong


I remember being in this village, a five-hour walk 
from the nearest town, and I remember being 
just as curious as the children. I asked people 
what they valued in their lives, and soon, 
the book "My Favourite Thing" was born.
Photo: Me in China, 1998 (I am sorry that I have forgotten the name of the photographer.)

rise and fall and sway

I have visited this home
Rows of corn swaying outside.
A baby swaying within.
Photo: In the Philippines


I have always loved to use things 
differently, playfully. 
Photo: Seat for a van, New Zealand

pink and purple

I do not especially gravitate to the colo(u)rs pink and purple, and especially not the prissy pastel versions, 
which seem to wilt.
But how I love the pink receptacle placed here 
near the pyramids, and today, the gentle 
purple slate seen in the hills of Hong Kong.
Photo: Giza, Egypt


Rest, my dear friends.
Be restful.
Photo: Mesh at a garden centre, New Zealand

before the fall

These apples will fall
all by themselves.
Photo: In H's garden, Carterton, New Zealand


We have been having bread appreciation meals. 
Homemade loaves with seeds, olives, nuts, herbs. 

This round beauty was created 
by people from Xinjiang. 

And the other day, I saw some biscuits made with flour, water and salt, and baked up to four times to get rid of any moisture that might lead to mold on a long voyage by ship. 
It is called hard tack.
Photo: Bread for sale, near Suzhou, China


This sign appeared 
one day like an angel.
Photo: In Tai Hang, Hong Kong

one year, two

Welcome to the new year.
Photo: Windows in Napier, New Zealand

fair is fair

Maybe I believe 
in fairness 
more than self-help.
Photo: Napier, New Zealand


I want to enclose and be enclosed.
Photo: A room in New Pacific Studio
near Masterton, New Zealand

a poem to give

Wait until this moody weather 
is over / That’s all that matters...
Photo: Lotus in car, at a festival, Hong Kong. For P.K. 
Text: From "A poem to give to a bitter melon," by Leung Ping Kwan (1949-2013)

dry hot dry

A dry time.  Grass is yellowing,  
wisteria leaves falling. We woke up this morning  
and saw a double rainbow,  
but only spits of hot rain.  
I once called summer a giant snail.  
Photo: City bench, Napier, New Zealand