Hinemoana Baker

thumb|Hinemoana Baker 2016 08 Hinemoana Baker (born 1968) is a New Zealand poet, musician and recording artist, teacher of creative writing and broadcaster. Quotes <>I am the last born I move through the crowd with my shiny red wheels I bring with me large animals and flaming spikes in cages I am the last born and I know who I want to vote for I know the identity of the figure in black Low prices are written all over my face I am the last born and I have a long following Everything and everyone is my elder I move through the relatives in my green leaves I eat canoes and drink inlets I have a beard and a small fat crab inside my shell I am the last born the pōtiki the teina Everything breaks its back over me but there are Many ways to build from scratch and in spite of the fact That every fourth corner of the land has been walked Over I make everything ready, being the last born I am desired at each event, to lay down the Cow leather, to direct people to the location of The demons, the devils in the tarmac We all bite something for a living I know not to rave and shout when I reach these places I bring children with me, just the right number Of pumpkins and I sing completely out of tune Buying up all the land around with my lucky sand dollars <> The hotel room is a yawning cavern and I have forgotten my carabiners. The bed’s made tight, the linen’s cool, the overblanket smells of soap and someone’s breath. You’re in Ruapehu Street between the ill-fitting fitted winter sheets now bald of any fleece. Yellow makes you scratch. A planet is getting ready for its big moment. These two boys have to jump a little to see into this telescope. You can’t look directly at it, man. Ka wreck koe i tō eyesight. The transiteers, the singing politicians, the old light of the new nation. All of us stroll along the revamped wharf pitching our wishes at the glinting Pacific. And she’s there too, the one they call Holden Torana or Skinny Banana, Madame Iguana. She’ll be long dead when they bring up the time capsule. She’ll leave her responsiblities purring in their red blankets. We will monitor the spectrum of scattered sunlight on her surface. She will say, in her way: parachutes are heritage seeds parachutes are significant star systems parachutes are priestesses dancing and dying I wasn’t here for Nukutaimemeha therefore this is not the real globe. The girl with the grass-green ring was not here for Horouta and neither was the Ginger Bee, nor the sailor singing his insistent songs of icebirds and liquor. All things move South when they become cold. All things move North when they become cold. All things make sails from the liquid ocean, from their lala language. In eight minutes your light will reach me, hangi smoke in my mouth. The light which fell on my newborn body is still alive. I plant a tree at the mouth of the Uawa river in your name my crawling, bawling space station. It is imperative I be as far away from you as possible. You rise from the yellow bed, black and cold and travel four hours every cent of you making war the telescopes of the world trained upon you. External links Category: living people Category:Women authors from New Zealand Category:Poets from New Zealand Category:1968 births Category:Women born in the 1960s