Renegade poet David Merritt has been absent from the poetry scene for the last couple of years. We caught up with him to chat about his off-grid lifestyle and what he’s working on now.
Q: Where have you been these past few years? You’ve been notable by an absence from the usual physical and digital spaces. Care to explain?
A: By the end of 2019 I was buggered, physically and mentally. Doctors were wagging censorious fingers at me (once more) and I was feeling like a one person literary sweatshop. Any degree of success, even modest, often requires periods of quite prolonged hard work, from which there is no escape and which is part of the territory. I’d been accommodation deficient (a nice way of saying you’re homeless and the business model doesn’t support hefty rent payments) for about 5 years and needed to settle and dig in, take stock, rest and repair.
Q: So, are you in better health now and have you found a home?
A: Yes and yes. When Covid struck in 2020 I was already well up a no-exit gravel road in the middle of nowhere in far northland, staying with a lovely young couple in a caravan. But after the first round of lockdowns ended I moved down to live in a garage in south Taranaki to be a little more central and closer to my family and friends. At the moment I am in the process of (slowly) building a tiny house on a land collective at a place called Pihama, living in a tent and taking responsibility for a flock of hens, an orchard and some big vege gardens. I’ll be still mostly off the grids but will now only engage with digi-hoohah in a limited way for a few hours a week. Rest of the time I’m quite happy in an old school, analog kind of way doing things my ancestors did like digging, collecting manures, making charcoal etc and writing of course.
Q: How’s that going? The writing thing….
A: Slow but ok. I made a series of 15 animated poems last year about where we’re at as a species on this fragile planet, they read more like non-fiction than poetry! I’m re-writing them and adding in a few other things to form the nucleus of something called Welcome to Bunkerville. Fingers crossed, that will be out by August/September. The long gestated You Sleep Uphill collection, a collaboration with Chris at Compound Press is hopefully out in time for my birthday in late April. There’s also some recordings in the pipeline, a CD called Blowhole, lifted from a 2021 live show at Punakaiki, where Justine Francis (aka the very talented viola player) and I did a sublime performance on a rainy night and a studio album produced by Fred Renata called the Mangaturoto Sessions which has been in the pipeline for a while.
Q: Will we see you out and about this year? Will you ever return for prolonged residencies on K road or in Cuba street or Nelson like in the past?
A: Maybe but the new new normal makes it difficult. I’ll make a quota of the little books this year, maybe a 1000 or so, plus a few more poetry bricks for 2022 National Poetry Day but I’m more inclined to stay put and wait for the invites to highly paid gigs at prestigious festivals or the huge lump sum grants from CNZ (thats my wry humour BTW). To be honest, I’m quite happy to build the tiny house, tinker with old Land Rovers, hen whisper and grow bulk pumpkins.
Q: A lot of people have asked us about you and your where abouts. How can they get a hold of you and how can they support you?
A: It can take a while sometimes to get a reply out of me via email, I’m currently working my way through the various gmail addresses I have and I’m back on Instagram now (@dm807169) which I’ve missed quite a bit. Eventually I’ll get back on the Facecrack/Meta planet, if only spasmodically, which I haven’t missed at all. I do have a modest Patreon page (https://www.patreon.com/dm807169) for pledges of support starting from $1 a month. There’s also about 7 or 8 retail outlets, dotted up and down the country I’m committed to restocking on an ad-hoc basis as well. Just buy the books when you see them!
Tuia! Tui – Tuia! Tuia te hā. Tuia te kupu. Tuia te kōrero. Tāu te māramatanga… Tihei Mauri Ora… Tēna Koutou e hoa mā, e pēhea ana te hararei? Whakahari me whakahaumaru taku hiahia ki a koutou kātoa. Ko Ben Brown tōku ingoa ā ka tu au ki kōnei no te taha o te pānui whakaahua tuatahi o Te Awhi Rito; e whakatautoko ana i tēnei mahi ma nga pou tāngata o te rōpū Phantom Billstickers.
My name is Ben Brown. I’m the inaugural Te Awhi Rito. This is me beside one of the first run of Te Awhi Rito Posters placed throughout the country by Phantom Billstickers. The posters mark the beginning of a public awareness campaign on behalf of Te Awhi Rito – The Reading Ambassador (Not, by the way, a translation. but I’ll explain the references shortly.) and a partnership with the Phantoms. Print production, pasting, infrastructure and all other boots-on-the-ground support for the campaign is provided right across the motu by the Phantom Billstickers crew. They tautoko hard. They’re solid. They’re sound. They’re a little bit subversive. They delivered more than we asked for – I can’t say better than that. All I had to do was whack up a design, email it print ready according to the specs and the Phantoms took care of the rest. Pro bono. No stress.
The kaupapa of Te Awhi Rito – The Reading Ambassador is to actively promote, inspire, advocate for, represent, engage with, advance, support, affirm and ensure a love of reading amongst our children – our tamariki and rangatahi. It’s a two-year appointment. Ambassadors are nominated. They do not apply. They are administered by the National Library and the Department of Internal Affairs. In February last year, in a meeting at the National Library in Wellington I was briefed as to what the role would probably entail, given that Aotearoa New Zealand hasn’t actually had a Te Awhi Rito – Children’s Reading Ambassador before. Having been so informed, I was then asked – a little more formally – if I would accept the appointment. It was, I have to say, an OMG moment.
Oh – My – Great – Big – Never – You – Mind….
Of course I accept the appointment. I regard it as a privilege. I feel honoured, respectful and . . . perhaps a little bit uncertain? I’ve worked half my life pursuing the substance, the matter of reading. I believe in its value and its worth. For thirty years I’ve called myself a writer. The decades seem to have passed a little bit quicker than I would have liked. There are fewer teeth in my head now and a lot more grey on top of it, though my slowly blurring vision prefers the shocks of silver that it sees among the braids. In May 2021
The posters are not directed at tamariki and rangatahi, but at those closest to them who might yet wield some influence, model exemplar behaviours, judiciously exercise authority if their authority still has effect. These are the parents, grand parents, whānau, caregivers, teachers, older siblings, any other trusted, safe, reliable friends, citizens, civil, corporate or private collectives, institutional or otherwise. The omens, for now, appear benevolent. The year is new. The weather as warm as it should be. And the traffic lights on the corner of Manchester Street and Moorehouse Avenue, Christchurch indicate quite clearly that everything is green for go and pointing appropriately in the right direction.
Mana kupu, mana kōrero – The power of words, the power of story
The messaging is deliberately enigmatic, presented in written form in the language of the oral culture that first gave meaning to everything beneath the long white cloud. This is a tauparapara. It is an orator’s device, a lyrical flourish, an announcement of intent. Formally delivered, it would alert you to the commencement of whaikōrero and an orator – he manukōrero – at the beginning of his work. Within its imagery and its rhythms we might discern symbols and meanings alluding to some deeper context, seeking it out, as if there are elements of meaning yet concealed. It is metaphor and poetic.
As I mentioned, tauparapara is oral in tradition, But this tauparapara was written. It was composed kei runga i taku rorohiko – on my computer – my ‘lightning brain’ machine. It was constructed using Latin symbols formally introduced to the ancestors in 1814 by a missionary named Kendall. In the vernacular of a post colonial narrative I could suggest the irrevocable compromise of authenticity merely by the application of alien literacy skills, techniques and hardware imported here by the agents of Empire and the great white colonial oppressor. But that would be counter productive and ignorant of the idea that a living culture evolves.
The metaphorical thread suggests the whakapapa of kōrero – of story – as an ambassador of reading might consider it, from the first thought in a writer’s mind to the light of understanding. These few lines are the core. Were I to announce my kōrero with this tauparapara in a formal setting, I would begin with a refrain familiar to the paepae. Structured around simplicity, using the natural cadence and rhythm latent within the words, the refrain introduces the idea of a common thread drawing seperate elements together. This is how things become bigger than the sum of their parts.
‘Tuia… Tui – Tuia …’
Tuia is the threading through, as with a needle drawing the muka.
It is the binding together.
And so:
Tuia te hā – Threading the breath.
The breath that precedes and carries the voice. The breath that implies the thought that the voice will bring shape and substance to.
Tuia te kupu – Threading the word.
The word that carries the idea. The word that gives meaning to things in the world and reveals our relationship to those things.
Tuia te kōrero – Threading the story.
The story, whether spoken, written or otherwise presented. The story that begins and ends with words gathered to a common purpose; to elaborate all possibilities and allow us to explore them. The story that helps us know ourselves and fulfil potential.
Tāu te māramatanga – Understanding, meaning and insight are yours. Story exists to tell us things about ourselves. This is the ultimate purpose of story, whatever form it takes, however frivolous or serious, whether fiction, fact or absolute fantasy. Somewhere in the story is an insight into you. That insight is for you to find, but it’s yours when you find it.
Tihei mauri ora – Tihei is the sneeze of life, the first breath, possibly even the first word…alluding to te hā for our purposes. Mauri – often referred to as a life essence, to me it is the energy or force of existence. We might think of it as a constant flow through all things. Quantum mechanics and thermodynamics offer similar descriptors to the nature of things. Mauri carries with it all the metaphysical aspects; mana, tapu, wairua and so forth. Ora is life.
Te Awhi Rito – Reading Ambassador
Te Awhi Rito is a juvenile harakeke plant. In this, our present context, it is also he tohu – a symbol – representing the Children’s Reading Ambassador of New Zealand. The symbolism is drawn from the body of lore, tradition and tikanga encapsulated in the the harakeke mythos. As often as not referred to as flax, native flax or New Zealand flax, harakeke isn’t a flax bush at all.
Phormium Tenax is a day lily. Then again, day lilies aren’t really lilies either. The misnomer arises from the linen like fibres, called muka, that give harakeke its renowned utility and unequalled status as a plant of immense mana in the tikanga.
Harakeke ensured the viability and survival of our original Polynesian settlement and its evolution into Te Ao Māori. Māui tied down the sun and fished up the land with chords and lines and bindings made of muka. Māori used it to build, clothe, gather food, express in art. Muka hauled the waka, rigged the sail, secured the anchor stone. Harakeke appeared in one form or another in every aspect of Māori life.
As you observe Te Awhi Rito – the young harakeke – you will note the small central leaf. This is Te Rito – the young shoot – the child, if you will. The leaves either side, they are mātua – the parents. Either side of them, kaumātua – grand parents. Beyond the kaumātua are the tūpuna leaves – the ancestors. These leaves fan out from Te Rito in a supportive, protective embrace. This embrace is Te Awhi. In this way, the harakeke offers a model of conduct, an insight into the human arrangement of whānau and extending beyond, to community.
In reference to the reading ambassador, Te Awhi Rito represents the support structures in place to support our young people in the pursuit of reading. In an age of Information, Technology, the library of the world is within reach to anyone with a browser and access to wifi. The written word has never had more utility, more application than it has today and will have tomorrow. Yet there are disturbing signs of a downward trend in the literacy and reading skills of our children and young people. Reading habits are changing. Papers have been written questioning the emphasis placed on a reading requirement in an age where an app can do it for you. Ask Siri, she’ll tell you what it says. I personally take the view that if you think the machine can do it for you, you perhaps misunderstand what reading – in a human context – actually is. To be brutally and fundamentally simplistic – as far as I’m concerned, reading builds better brains, not reading doesn’t . For ‘better brains’ you could swap in ‘better minds’, ‘better imagination’, ‘better creativity’, ‘better critical thinking’ etc. But you get where I’m coming from, eh.
Time; why it’s important and why it’s not
The easiest, most rewarding way to get our kids, not just reading but wanting to read, is for us – the grownups – to show them the way in word and deed. Read to them and with them as often as you can. Start before they even know what words are. Start before they even know what they are. Give it a sense of occasion. Make it a habit to look forward to an expected part of the day. If that idea intimidates you, ask yourself why. Then take the time to find a story you like and just get on with it. It’s really that simple. Reading is how we engage with written language and written language is our superpower – it elaborates our world, places us in it and tells us how to do anything we want. All we have to do is read.
Every meaningful human experience down to the mundane and routine. Every imagined possibility. Every failure. Every fall. Every step and stride and stumble and every miracle on the way. Every madness. Every monstrosity. Every moment marked as a milestone, whether magnificent or deplorable. All of it written down somewhere so that some other human can come along, soak it up and see where it might lead.
Let me be be clear. Reading to your kids does not mean teaching your kids to read. Teaching your kids to read is a slightly different game. And it’’s hugely important, so you’d better be prepared when the time comes. But of course, if you’ve read to your kids, you’ll all be good to go.
I want to suggest that in a quietly profound way, reading to your children as often as you can from as young as you like is a BIGGER thing in many ways than consciously trying to teach them to read. And reading to your three week old or your three day old or your first child born this morning simply for the pleasure it brings is even BIGGER. I can tell you that, generally speaking, all else being equal, it’s the furtherest thing from a chore you’ll ever do in your life. It’s the pure and simple pleasure of story time, of moments spent imagining, with your sons, your daughters, your non-binary offspring if that’s how you roll. It’s much more than time, its the life of you and your children expressed in words especially chosen for that purpose, on that occasion, where sounds coalesce into meanings by an ancient magic that even a three-week old knows without knowing yet, that hearing a story says – ‘Yes, I’m safe, I’m loved, I belong.’
So please, don’t let the best thing you might do in your life slide by because you somehow convinced yourself you haven’t got the time. If you did, or you intend to, well I’m sorry. But you’re wrong. It’s not the time you’re short of. It’s the inclination to care. TIME is everywhere. The universe is full of the stuff. At the end of any day you want to choose, it’ll be the only thing of real consequence that you and your kids will have. So read them a story. Make it live. Make it so damn good, they’ll read it to their own kids one day, just to see them feel what they felt. Just to feel what they saw you feel when you read it. Then do it again. And again. And again . . .
Post Script
In summary then; we want to inspire a love of reading in our tamariki and rangatahi. Reading for pleasure. Reading for fun. Reading because it makes you think better, feel better, know better.
No carrots. No sticks. Just words. W … O … R … D … S. Humanity owes everything to words. They are our greatest invention. Learning to write and read them is our greatest innovation. Nothing else comes close. Nothing else even happens. You’d think we’d be all over it… Well… yeah… nah… maybe… or… maybe not…
A funny thing seems to have happened as we make our way to tomorrow. These days, technology and information lays Everything at our fingertips, in our pockets, on our tablets, laptops and devices, in our cars, our TVs, our toasters – words have never had as much utility or application – but a clear trend has emerged in the last ten to fifteen years – engaging with the written word is becoming problematic. Reading as a comprehensive skill set appears to be in decline. More of our kids are leaving school with reading skills that can only disadvantage them in an information dense reality.
A cursory browse through online stats reveals only that an abundance of information is about as effective as none sometimes. New Zealand, for example, shows an adult literacy rate unchanged from 99% in well over ten years. But we sit quite snuggly between Iceland and Ireland so Njals saga and Ulysses keep us right up with the play. Samoa pips us by nearly a percent. I’m guessing the Bible has something to do with it. The Good Book worked for Māori back in the 19th Century.
The Adult Literacy Rate is defined by the WHO as ‘The percentage of population aged 15 years and over who can both read and write with understanding a short simple statement on his/her everyday life.’
MY LIFE IS SHIT will get you a pass. As long as you know what it means. I’ve seen it written MY LIF IS SHIT! by a 17 year old locked up in Youth Justice just last year. The exclamation mark would more than make up for the missing E in my book. That kid understands. I’d give him a pass. He deserves it for being ignored for at least ten years in the education system.
It is National Poetry Day in New Zealand on Friday this week. It is a bleak and lonely week to have National Poetry Day even though poetry helps us reach to the very bottom of our souls. We look around the world and there is nothing but trouble, but poetry is mostly sweet in one way or another.
For me, it highlights friends who are no longer with me and the yearning for the time we spent together in better days gone past.
Friendships are mostly what has gotten me through life, good mates that I could clear the slate with, to tell them about every single time I wronged and every single time I felt wronged in return. My life has been up and down and that feeling firstly came from my mother who was the tempestuous type, when she loved you she really loved you and when she took you into the coal room with a leather belt she did damage. The worst kind of damage she did me was when I really needed her and she didn’t respond at all.
I was doubled up with Black Pete Raponi in Her Majesty’s Prison at Paparua over the winter of 1975. Peter was one of the most beautiful men one could ever meet. He was from up north and I believe he was adopted as a child by Pakeha parents. They had given him the world, but something was missing within Peter that nothing or no one could ever make up for. Peter was left to yearn his whole life through. This kind of yearning is not good for people and it did a lot of damage to Black Pete. He was a very good chemist burglar and he and I would often set off in my big black Rover 100 with gas cutting gear in the back so as to cut open the safes in chemist shops. This kind of behavior made us really good friends. I could count on him and he could count on me. He liked to overdose and he did it regularly. When you went to revive him he’d sometimes say: “No, leave me alone to enjoy it….it’s mine….I want to enjoy it.” Usually he’d be revived in the very nick of time.
He would often repay the same favour to me, that is to say he would often revive me in just the very nick of time. These chemist shops often held pure pharmaceutical Heroin, New Zealand being the last country in the world to stop prescribing Heroin for pain, and it was often mixed into cough mixtures in the 1940’s and 1950’s.
These chemist shops almost always had Pharmaceutical grade Cocaine, and then Morphine powder and “cans” (ampoules), and Omnopon, Palfium, Pethidine, Opium Tincture and so on and so forth. It was like a holiday in the South of France and in that state one couldn’t be annoyed by anything.
A famous writer (Anita Brookner) once said that time misspent in youth was often the only freedom one ever had in one’s life and I agree with that. No one in our group raised an eyebrow at the behaviour of another. There was no moralising and no one judged anyone else. Abnormal behaviour was tolerated. New Zealand, back then, was a place that one had to bust out of, one way or another.
Poetry, among it’s hundreds of very fine features, also helps us escape. In life, are we not here to help each other?
I have just bought a beautiful 1963 Volkswagen Kombi “Samba”. On National Poetry Day I’m going to load up my “Bubble” (New Zealand is under Covid induced “lockdown”) and drive them the long way to the supermarket whilst someone reads poetry until another takes turn at doing the same.
No doubt I’ll be glowing from ear to ear. I call this “Freedom”.
Poetry fans across Aotearoa New Zealand are eager to create a vibrant, diverse Phantom National Poetry Day on Friday 27 August 2021, after the global pandemic curtailed public gatherings last year.
The packed programme goes live today (Thursday 5 August), revealing the breadth of our annual nationwide celebration. More than 100 events and competitions are scheduled for late August. You can find the full programme at Phantom National Poetry Day.
Now in its 24th year, Phantom National Poetry Day is set to go off with a bang, with events all around the country – from cafés and bars to libraries, bookshops, marae, schools, universities and parks. Poetry will also pop up on public transport, city streets, beaches, and hospitals. There’s something for everyone, whether it’s poetry slams, open mic nights, readings, book launches, workshops or performances.
Among the highlights are:
Whangarei – Fast Fibres Poetry 8: poetry anthology launch and performances Auckland – Written Windows: poetry displays throughout Auckland Hospital, with a performance event including Selina Tusitala Marsh and Renee Liang. Hamilton – Flesh and Bone ii featuring poets from the moana, including Kelly Joseph, Maluseu Monise and essa may ranapiri. Wellington – Open Heart Surgery poetry evening at Good Books. Christchurch – Counterculture – Politics in Poetry Open Mic: contemporary political poetry from Ōtautahi poets. Queenstown – Pop-Up Poetry Workshop led by Amy O’Reilly and Bethany Rogers. Dunedin – Poetic Cabaret: dine with pitch-perfect poets and invited instrumentalists.
To celebrate both Phantom National Poetry Day and Australia Poetry Month, online warm-up event Aus x NZ Poetry Showcase is scheduled for Thursday 26 August. The evening will include lively virtual readings from Tusiata Avia, winner of the Mary and Peter Biggs Award for Poetry at the 2021 Ockham New Zealand Book Awards; shortlisted poets Hinemoana Baker, Mohamed Hassan and Nina Mingya Powles; MitoQ Best First Book Award (Poetry) winner Jackson Nieuwland; and Aotearoa Poet Laureate David Eggleton.
On Friday 27 August, Tusiata Avia will also appear at the WORD Christchurch Festival 2021 event Confluence and Jackson Nieuwland will take part in Wellington event Shouting Into The Void: Six Poets One Megaphone.
Poet and NZ Book Awards Trust spokesperson Richard Pamatatau says, ‘As always, this year’s Phantom National Poetry Day is an opportunity for our poets to bring words, ideas and language to people across Aotearoa. To celebrate who we are, what we stand for and to reflect on what has passed. In the midst of a global pandemic, and after last year’s socially distanced celebration, it is delightful to see activity and vibrancy surging back into the day, with so many events planned.’
Nearly 20 wickedly good poetry competitions are listed in the Competition Calendar, including online poetry competition Given Words 2021 – Noho Mai, in its 6th year, and E Tū Whānau’s inaugural Spoken Word Competition, with winners announced on Phantom National Poetry Day. To find out more and enter these competitions visit Competition Calendar.
Much-loved children’s poet Paula Green has created an inspiring resource for teachers to use with students – one which will spark their imaginations as they write poetry and create events. Find out more at Phantom National Poetry Day Schools Guide.
Phantom CEO Robin McDonnell says, ‘Phantom Billstickers LOVES poetry and has been taking it to the streets of New Zealand and overseas for nearly 40 years. There’s something delicious about finding poetry in unexpected places – on walls, lampposts, billboards – for all the world to see. Phantom National Poetry Day gives us an opportunity to go large and celebrate our local poets. What’s not to love!’
Held annually on the fourth Friday in August, Phantom National Poetry Day brings together poetry royalty and fans from all over Aotearoa New Zealand. Many of the programmed events will be FREE and open to the public. This popular fixture on our cultural calendar celebrates discovery, diversity and community. For the past six years, Phantom Billstickers has supported National Poetry Day through its naming rights sponsorship.
For full details about all the events taking place, including places, venues, times, tickets and more, go to Phantom National Poetry Day Calendar of Events.
As a landlord, you know the hard slog and expertise it takes to sort out leases, maintenance and compliance. Not to mention finding good tenants!
We know it’s hard work because our Sales & Marketing Director, Rupert Fenton, grew up in a family that owned commercial properties. What he absorbed around the kitchen table turned out to be oddly relevant to his subsequent career at Phantom.
Rupert, a bit about your background…
“I grew up in the UK where my family had a small portfolio of commercial properties. I remember listening to my parents and grandparents talking about rates, rent rises, deferred maintenance and all the other stuff you need to stay on top of. So I never had the naive idea that owning a commercial property was easy money.
“In the end I didn’t join the family business, opting instead for the media business. I’ve spent 25 years now in the outdoor advertising industry in the UK and New Zealand. I’ve worked for start-ups and the world’s biggest outdoor media company. And now I’m part of a great team here at Phantom.”
On the surface of it, being a landlord and running a poster network seem like quite different businesses. But you say they’re similar. What do you mean?
“It’s the fundamental business model. If you get the right tenant/advertiser in the right location, you will get the best result.
“As a landlord you don’t want just any old tenant – you need a business that will really thrive in the space, as well as treating it with respect and paying the rent on time. As their business grows, you as the property owner will be rewarded with a greater return. In the same way, our advertisers benefit from being in high-quality spaces.
“By attracting the right advertisers into our frames, we’re rewarded when their campaigns succeed. They know they’ve done well so they’ll happily come back for more.”
Surely it’s straightforward – high foot traffic equals high value?
“Of course, a premium site on a busy street will command top dollar simply because of the number of eyeballs it attracts each week. But that’s just the beginning.
“Just as smart retailers look to add value to their stores, we add value to our poster sites. So you’ll see retailers taking on the online threat by innovating with their commercial space, like Barkers with in-store barber shops in its menswear outlets. We have the same can-do, innovative attitude.”
Can you give any examples?
“At Phantom we’ve been creating more four-in-a-row sites, because we’ve noticed that big brands like State Insurance or Mercury like to book sequential street posters that tell a story. We’ve also invested in extra-large sites, that act as eye-level billboards to give our clients extra impact. And we have the skills in-house to build shelves for product sampling, or to customise and colour-coordinate our frames with their brands.
“There’s a big pay-off, because now street posters can now serve a strategic purpose in big brand campaigns – and attract more customers.”
What about the role of posters in recovering from Covid?
“We understand how their businesses were hit by the lockdowns. Losing tenants and customers was a brutal blow, and it affected our business as well as theirs.
“That’s why we’re super-focused on maximising returns from our poster network and helping support the property owners where our frames live. You could say we’ve got skin in the game.”
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