A great concrete arm reaches into the sea It controls its temper A swell surges at it and spray floats It gives no ground In its lee fishing boats sit low They roll and tip, pastel sides dipping Children swim to a pontoon – a collie, too, his coat a furrow of black and white…
The Winds of Change
I listen to the rain – on the roof – I hate the fucking rain!!! Most people find it soothing.. they tell me – Again and again – You must be mad!!! If you don’t enjoy… the subtle lullaby – Rocking. rocking. rocking… Even as a child – I used to put my face close…
dioscuri
i’m skint pale skinned, fit until someone claims me bitch; sticks his jack in. take pity because it’s better than nothing. what is it? but pre-emptive this effacement. i do it good i do it w/out thinking. let the whip fly flail my skin like it’s paper. cut me down…
from Short March Walkabout
IV to lay—in the dark intoning in tune with the waves moaning in purposeless calm is to know this, I cannot, in the object hold (the) ‘myself’ inside this busted-lock of surf beach changing room without the cold suspicion that the ‘I’ who moves the green pencil across the narrow page of an complimentary Agriculture…
unfriend
Lead me on when the house is still, nights long. I was here, in your dream once when the trees danced to the wind & the yellow moon looked on. A board cracks. Airs enter the rooms. You left a shawl, a pair of shoes. The skin that out-lives you.
community
it’s time to hold hands. be gentle, whatever criticism i merit. have killed am disassembled. oh, broken. stuffed with. you saw me blow, like a nail bomb.
Dancing with the Seven sisters
Matariki The stars align Magic diamonds twinkling above Guiding and providing A pathway for ancient voyagers from the past Look beyond the sky Feel beyond the present The stars will provide the rhythm for the knowledge from the past The seven sisters hold the key Unlock the secrets that we all yearn to know Open…
What I Saw Today
A hawk in a fence clawing the air A river surge over stone Frost bleed from a stone face An old man’s hands shake as he sought to speak An old woman rise from a wheelchair A young woman confronted with truth The rotting wheel of a wool wagon…
A Mountain’s Hold
You hold many in icy folds Old and young frozen in limb and boot; anguish, surprise locked for time Those who conquer rejoice; those who fail you keep Your stone face betrays no emotion Axe or rope will be of no use when my face darkens
Dialogue
I bastardized an historical fiction today. I adulterated the ism, the -isy, the science of retelling. Yeah, I added invented dialogue to assumed events. Events I was convinced of, Events that are unlikely, Events that have been censored. But I couldn’t resist – the book was so dull, and the evidence is so scarce, and…
out of the womb
i disconnect, hauled from the air, a sky paradise. not even justice rocks. i want change – to expand, regress. frequent her places: Byron, she says – dies in red-stained frills no detergent heals. put like that, i suck. am dense. there’s no ghost where she was – on the stairs; you…
Castles in the Sand
Touch Textures Taste Flavours Play in sand Make castles Rescue damsels But we are not in distress! Merely mortal angels weaving magic as we pass on by… Suck Favours Fuck Saviours Play in clay Make players Move pieces in the game… No longer playing!!! My hands are touching sand Making beautiful castles Touch Textures Taste…