Eliot Ness is getting cranky He needs to land a punk I expect bloodshed Two dead is a bad day He hates triggermen, sly-groggers, guys (and broads) in rackets Chicago is teeming: Chancers with tommy guns leaning from the doors of cars When he meets a doll he runs his fingers over the brim of his…
Two At Autumn
1 Black cows graze at fence line young bulls, watching me bowl. Ball after ball after ball to one batter, an Opener. No one else arrived to face as I hit my stride bowling tall with movement barely two wides in it. Run-up timing perfect working on his weak-spot rib high, not quite leg. Sweat…
The Futility of Lawnmowing
Another hour on a grimy mower. Wheels guided, in their rut. Engine’s harsh rattle rumbling dull static in my gut. Engine hour counter clicking over inevitably. Anaemic autumn grass regrowing defiantly. Endless, pointless route. Up and back. Up and down. Monochromatic stripes. Verdant corduroy lawn. A fuchsia streak cuts across the green…
Summer Laundry
Towels and sheets caressed by purple fingers on each rotation. A shirt’s casual sag masks its desperate reach. Arms straining for frayed cuffs to be dabbed with perfume. A composed pillowcase squared-off in knowing ease that summer’s heat will lift the scent in wafting waves warmed with the sound of bees. Simple genius. Planting lavender…
L
Friday prayers. They are us. Tears rolling down. Flag half mast. Looking in the mirror. What we want to see, reversed. This is New Zealand. That hate is here. It hurts. The diagnosis is in. A pus ridden sore. Time to cut it out. Complicit to ignore. Yes. This is New Zealand. …
The Approaching Storm
Above a flat nor-west sea the rolled cloud sidles over the horizon It hovers as on strings Then swings, dark – one end on a far spit, the other reaching for land The cattle turn before its flailing arms
Crease
Seagull white specks on the outfield green. Waiting for the over to be over again. White thigh. Crimson streak. Ball’s red lipstick smear. White knee. Verdant graze. Turf’s green blush to wear. White picket legs run end to end. Splintering wickets they stand to defend. Gathers himself. On toes. Heels rise. Leans…
A Farmer Returns
Even now, as his sun sets, he is called back to the land He looks on shaky sticks at the ridges and swales, the rows of pines breaking the wind It is too much to go near the house, or the shed where he worked the shears and dug hooks into tight-pressed bales The pain…
E tu Brute
Beware the ides of March E tu Brute Caesar stabbed by friends not foe 28 year old random male blasted his way into history on this day! When tithes must be given Hate crime or attention seeking? Beware the ides of March E tu Brute Tragedy at the hands of one with a gun a…
scoria flower muse
scoria flower muse: 36 views near & far of rangitoto inspired by Hokusai’s ’36 Views of Fuji’ series of woodcuts I. through the rain a shadow of itself standing off-shore rangitoto somewhere else in sun II. that slow inhale to the peak held double exhale to the sea III. rain cloud lifted neat along its…
The Stream
Trickle down the wind wire droplet tumbling and rolling condensation admired in theory residue of resin a point made well-intentioned but perceived as a broken glass eye bounces on concrete grinding a path from sorry to near He enters and she departs the eternal stage of conflicts judged by insolence torn from the very heart…
Palettes
Wanting to paint your pain away… Searching for the right palette of colours Your rainbow… it flickers softly then flames into fireworks… creating magic in our souls wanting to paint your pain away… by absorbing it with my own palette of colours