Is: muted/ the empty sky of evening/ wept until – The stars fray/ derelict shadows lie in ragged heaps/ the I, crystalline, beside me – long, serpentine
Month: January 2018
A Man Of The Land
The crop has wilted to the earth No one told the farmer about Nature’s cruelty; how it breaks men This year was the worst: good intentions sown deep, then teasing spring rain Now it is almost gone – there is nothing for the roots to seek He holds the hot leaves and they have no…
from Hail Gazers
‘I know, I know, that through me it will go: sadness which shakes not a flower, lifts not a shadow in pain’. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . whenever I live in or…
Souls On The Wind
And when the wind blew their souls were scattered to commerce and funds They learnt here where the tall grass folds, in houses black with age They came to make a life in fields in a faraway town Now the cars rush by – The stays have fallen, the cupboards are bare Children wrote on…
care of the river
care of the river to my paternal grandmother Edith Lilian Bagge nee Von Sturmer, died 13 June 1923, buried Aromoho Cemetry, Wanganui you rest over the road from the river at least your name rests there the simplest telling of any life the name we sign the best the worst of our doings with right…
end
Who gets to write the end line in our poem; to lie, at last, suck their wine by the pool when all the chores are done? No-one sees the masterpiece hung but you kneel dutifully to swallow bread. Like a girl or a good boy should.
everything in this room is how i want it
i’m content to do nothing substantial. it’s better to chew my fingers, use a torn nail as floss than submit to the dross of sharing my day with you. * flies listen to me, are in tune with my vibe; the mood (i’m in) to kill descends suddenly, & shut the fuck up &…
The Man Who Lost His Mind
His house was small, a wooden affair His front door greeted the nor-west; the wind at the portal washed his face of care It was rarely opened He preferred the small side entrance, past a little table and dying geraniums When friends called (and that was rare) he would be in the garden, walking around…
Out of Sight, Out of Mind
Out of sight on a blue blue night. Out of mind? No, you’re intertwined. Out of sight these feelings I fight, out of mind It’s you I can’t find. Out of sight in the failure of light, out of mind it’s a turning world’s grind. Nadine you’re out of my sight, Nadine, I’m out of…
sunshower, moon
sunshower, moon i think i’ve always loved to travel most at the edge of the light dusk streetlight dawn sunshower moon a stained glass window of sky through hay in a fisherman’s breeze a bird’s cry off evening waters where words are more in their less november 2017 moonbridge
white boats on the water
The white boats are buoyed by the water; the blue sea splayed in sunlight, cloud & sky. My heart beats for these cubic lines, the pentagrammic houses over the shore. The fishermen. Remember the waving light on the quay of early morning; hunger for the gusty rain before dusk, or the flash flood….
the moon’s influence
The old men gaze as a cloud frays across the moon.