CORRESPONDENCE – LOVE THIS!

                                                                              

Ia ora na Russell,

How are you ?

I'm pleased to have by Drusilla your e-mail,

So I can hope to have some news 

from you and your young writers,

I would like to congratulate you 

for your Awards in September,

It's wonderful !

I knew it by Drusilla,

And I read Anuki, sometimes.

I let you know that there is a possibility 

for you and for your writers to send texts, poems,...

to be published in an electronic review in Europe, 

Vents Alizés in Budapest (Hungria),

I wrote to Amanda Donigi also 

after having her e-mail by Drusilla

I'll receive the texts for the Pacific area that I'll send

as a member of the comity

 A Doctorant (French word) in overseas French literature,

and Pacific literature, 

teacher at the University of Budapest

would like to have your email,

So can I send it to him?

I'll wait for your response before sending  it to him,

Russell, I apologize for my English,

I do my best.

Well, I'm writing to you before living

tonight for three weeks to spend in France,

I hope to have news from you,

I'm very pleased to share this moment with you,

Warm regards,

Flora

                                                          

Flora, bonjour, at long last we are in touch.

Thank you for your kind words. They uplift me tremendously and I feel blessed.

I am glad you are in touch with Amanda and the rest. A very good crowd
to know in PNG literature!

Please forward my e-mail to those who wish to correspond. It is good.

I will see what I can send, but they might be interested in my 
SAILING ON A BOUNTIFUL ARK  
which I am compiling at present.

Good, until then

Bien cordialement!

                                                                               

PORT MORESBY IN HIGH SAVANNAH

                                                                                                                                 
Sun on light mist, the yellow
hills. Smoke, mucous sky.
An early riser casts
a glance at the sleeping sea
and yawns.

The day is a tired old earth
panting 80 degrees farenheit.
The afternoon brings in dusty wire
hair, and stomachs that are empty.
Then dusk;
burnt sienna clouds, sky:
a solitary mud lake.

We could love this city
a fluorescent lagoon
of suburban tropicalities;
areca drugs days
bahasa sunsets
ad no betel nuts
for the gods.

The fall of evening blinks out
silhouetted signs:
taravatu
itambu
nogat wok

from KWAMRA: a season of harvest