On White Night, the city of Auckland became a living, breathing gallery. Art was up late, and a group of poets took to the streets to intepret the almost gluttinous sensory immersion. Here are some of their responses.

Flesh & Breath

Annaleese Jochems

you are a body in a game of positions

such vulgarity

feeling in a structured field

economy

each morning we compose ourselves
into non-monsters

no, you must not go back to bed yet

*

this knee and then that one

you are such feeling, such limbs

become body become sentiment --

grant me the privilege

of non-existence

let all the world be a bed to me - I

extend my love, my dream

splayed legged and bright.

Entity

Matt Wort

1. Kocum

You’re singing to a siren

who’ll never hear us

2. Missing

The columns of

you shift   /

I cannot see your spine

lying.

The Tink in the Basement

Rahera Walter

i’ve come from war

and you offered

me white roses &

a hot cuppa

we smoked

weed and contemplated

the stars, drank them

and burnt

we are blackbirds

it’s not about the falling

it’s not about you

or anything

but the weight of it

the better you

a shadow that dances

in waves and

absorbs

the panorpidae

it’s just us

the flashing

warm acoustics

a serenade for

the broken

hearted

clamp your strings

and sing

on Sunday morning

sing for the

pakitara women

i’ve seen fire & i’ve seen

rain and i’ll see you

again