I was carrying posters by Tusiata Avia, Marty Smith, Pat Connors, Elizabeth Smither, Brett Lupton, Dylan Kemp, Roger Hickin, Frankie McMillan, Jeffery McCaleb, Gary Langford, Chris Price, James K. Baxter, Hone Tuwhare, Janet Frame, Jody Lloyd, Sandra Bell and Keri Hulme.

I dream about meter boxes and lamp-posts. I have a recurring dream in which I have a hydraulic drill and I am drilling holes in concrete to put up poetry posters. I wake up and feel good.

I spent three or four days in Boston and Cambridge doing early morning runs and topping up during the day. I had the same dozen or so Kiwi poets with me as in Lowell.

Lowell is about thirty miles from Boston. It is the birthplace of Jack Kerouac. It is also where the movie 'The Fighter' was set, based on the story of Micky Ward, the boxer.

This was the week after Gil Scott-Heron died and also the week that Errol Hincksman (Mr Asia drug ring) died. Gil Scott-Heron was one of the great poets and musicians of his generation. His work touched millions of people.

It was Memorial Day weekend and by 8am it was already 70 degrees Fahrenheit (it would get to 95 degrees later). I had 80 to 90 A3 posters and I was carrying poems by Janet Frame, Chris Knox, Sandra Bell, Sam Hunt, Tusiata Avia and Robert Creeley. I did the run in under an hour.

I picked up the local newspaper, 'The Trentonian,' and the headline was 'Killed For Pills.' That tells you something about the times we live in.

I was carrying poem posters by Janet Frame, Frankie McMillan, Tusiata Avia, Chris Knox, Lawrence Arabia and Robert Creeley. I love these poets and I feel some kind of uplift being in their company even though they are on paper.

I left New Zealand on Boxing Day and arrived in New Orleans, Louisiana, on December 28th. It took fifteen hours. I went via Salt Lake City, Utah, which is a city that makes Invercargill look like Las Vegas. On the way to New Orleans, a snowstorm hit the Eastern Seaboard and I was delayed four hours in Salt Lake City.

There might be lots of good reasons for going to these two cities to do a poster run of Kiwi poets. A person has to have clear intentions and I always try not to get sidetracked.

Perth Amboy is a city about the size of Timaru back in old Aotearoa New Zealand. The city sits on a bay on the Raritan River and is about forty miles from the mystical Jersey Shore. Across the bay is Staten Island. John Bon Jovi was born here.

This was a nice and casual feeling poster run on a warm Saturday in September just as the seasons were beginning to change. The leaves are a beautiful colour here in New Jersey at present and they remind me of the colours of New Zealand's central Otago when the autumn season is coming along.

I'm writing this on Wednesday 1 Sept. Today is the 64th birthday of Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees. Now there's a family that has seen some pain. Also, Jonathan Franzen's new book, "Freedom" came out yesterday. These things factor in somehow.

Delta Airlines mistakenly sent my luggage all the way to Tallahassee, Florida, whereas I was flying into Music City, USA (Nashville, Tennessee). So, my guitar case with broom and paste was no longer available and I felt lost without my heavy-duty industrial lamp-post poster stapler.

It's been so hot here for over a week now that a few days ago I saw a redneck explode in the street. Then, yesterday when I was on 202 out near Flemington, New Jersey, I saw a dude in a bright yellow Camaro doing 120mph plus whilst being trailed by four New Jersey State Troopers wearing Smokie the Bear hats and wide grins.

It is true that putting up posters will shift the dirty water off one's chest. I have never come back from a poster run feeling worse (I've said this before), not even when my posters have been immediately covered by another posterer.

I have put up several million posters in the streets of New Zealand over these past few decades and hence given the place a damn good pasting. I have never put up a single poster that I did not think contributed something in some way, whether it was to advertise a band or a brand, a political meeting or a drama group (often the same thing).