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Thane Zander
New Zealand

Enigmatic blue on a weekly basis Andy Leleisi'uao
Enigmatic blue on a weekly basis - Andy Leleisi'uao
Thane is a recovering Bipolar Type I with schizophrenia living in the Mighty Manawatu, in a place called Friendly Feilding.  In his 49 years to date he has lived all over New Zealand (good source for some of the poetry), spent 27 years serving the country in the Navy as a surveyors assistant, a postie in Foxton and a Night Security Manager in Palmerston North.  More recently he has been a student at Massey University, doing two papers – Creative Writing and The Music of Pink Floyd. The source of Thane’s poetry is a deep wellspring of observation, be it nature, scenery, politics, and just pure imagination.  Currently he is serving as forum director of two for a at Blueline Poetry, posts for critique at SaltyDreams and Babilu Forums, and runs his own New Zealand only Poets website at (a closed forum and members status by request – just tell me where you found the link).
In the short term, Thane will be going back to Massey next year with four papers in mind, investigating publishing avenues, and continue to write thought provoking poetry.

The Propensity for Dissatisfaction

When treading the boards, the poem about to be presented,
you check your nervous system, the shakes a binary thing
as is the poem,

presented in a stammer, the chords extemporize the words,
crush metaphors with consummate ease, similes lost in space,
the poem works,

then the applause, gained by solid effort and great resource,
you bow once, and hurriedly leave the podium, invigorated,
the poem attained,

sit through the other readings, a necessary chore, applause
and repeated resonance of song through oration, words swallowed,
your poem dies,

and in the afterglow of handshakes and platitudes, no one remembers
yet twenty minutes ago they applauded, your senses swim, diluted,
the poem forgotten,

you throw out another masterpiece, swear to make it better next time,
the poem born.

Leaving Leavened Bread

Chop in a dicing fashion,
one bag of peanuts,
and feed to soldier ants strolling
single file
past my back door step.

Bake one loaf Leavened Bread,
crumble when hot
into little balls and crumbs,
feed to the chattering populace
of thrushes and sparrows.

Take one bottle of Riverstone Chardonnay,
remove cork,
savour aroma,
consider possibilities
drink in the fashion of Papal whores,
the taste deliberate.

Dream in the noted key of B major
your snore
a French Horn
in a room built for a string quartet,
your dream,
placated by restlessness
and the continual banging
on a fifty year old wall.