View List of Contributors

Search Results
Page: 1/1 Records: 1 - 15 of 15
New Search

Kay McKenzie Cooke - Dunedin, (New Zealand):

April 03, 2001:
This book I read by retired farm machinery, out of the
    sun, under trees.
My father recorded the weight of lambs in a small, blue
    book with a thin pencil tucked into its spine.
This book introduced me to the word pail - at the
    time (and even now) I thought it was a far better alternative
    to bucket.
This book is one of many piled up on a desk under
    which a dog sleeps and at which a poet with an impassive
    face writes love poems for a woman he will never name -
    not in a million years.
This book kids itself that time can be, will be, must be,
    captured.

April 07, 2001:
This book makes you laugh and shake the bed.
This book only exists in cyberspace. The same page
    is being read at the same time in rooms thousands of miles
    apart.
If the sound of all the books being dropped right now by
    people falling asleep, was laid end to end, it would cause a
    sonic boom.
There is a book born every two seconds.
Where is this book leading me ? How does it take
    its coffee?

April 17, 2001:
This book's cover has a cerise background, lemon letters and a sketch
    of a black signpost. One of the arms on the signpost points
    to Troubled Syntax.
This book's spine's discoloured from where the light has hit it. The
    name of the author is now so pale, it has almost disappeared
    altogether.
This book has a cover the colour of licorice and a
    repeated, vertical motif of butterfly, clover, moon, dandelion, fish, lilypad, owl, lizard,
    frog. The cover takes your fingers over the edge which is where
    it folds over into the inside of the book as a
The colours on this book's cover are close to the colours
    I want for our bathroom when we get around to painting it.
    It is full of poems by a poet who writes of frost
    and reeds and people walking under trees.
This book has a white, sulpher crested cockatoo on its cover which
    twists its neck to the look over its right shoulder with a
    surprised, round eye and a peaceful crest. Inside the writer writes: 'I
    hold you lion in my eye'.