mailbox tucked in by the hedge a blackbird on the green mailbox 102 eyeing me from the empire of his eye eyeing me with an eye of night opened on the day . morning, 1 july 2013 nelson st, howick
Month: May 2016
no touch
no touch night on the estuary a wind thumping home the rain thumping waves into the steeper low-tide shore heard and not seen you know the sadness of ghosts along this esplanade nothing fearful no fear that that they are with you in your thoughts in the brush of air through a still room…
that smile of yours
that smile of yours you weren’t born yesterday there are some years washed out under that bridge you didn’t just step out of the celestial garden naked delicious with dew (look now, i’ve undressed you) yet your smile is newer than the minute, ahead my every leap of heart you are the very brilliance…
Sadness
Sadness has many friends: the dying falling leaf a drunk’s shaking mind the horse alone in a field. Forgive my sadness, forgive sadness itself: it is the beast which patrols our inner shadows – and it feeds on itself
Francis blesses the fire
1 You appear as if a match had been struck in the dark. 2 The fire stirs and the cave is bathed in tenuous light some god made years ago. The prayer invokes what can’t be said, what I can’t say in flat prose. 3 The cave is cut into…
GUM TREES
Two ladies travelling head first to a down town bar. These two ladies, I call them gum trees. They spoke in that casual tone, of common social deceit. “She did?” Their flakey bark, tough and whispy, revealed layers they though were covered. When these two gum trees lost their waxy leaves and bark They got into…
comings and goings
comings and goings first thought full-tide took days to return knew later it was a moon thing could sneak up on you that same very day again later knew you could set your dreaming by it let yourself be carried on the fullness of it just…
quaint
quaint too often i’ve seen myself an aviator at the edge of dawn in a shot-through tiger moth that bit by bit has fallen away the swinging tail struts and wire come undone along the wing the wings themselves the very fuselage all broken away gone and there’s only a man up there holding…
from Übermanis Geniac #2
7 Well, Jim, you’re dead, you know you are the only one who’s left behind a myth past the valour of his verse. A plinth has been erected, above a sewer, because poets translate muck back into water. The myth holds you versified in youth; I hated writing, couldn’t match my thought, speech likewise, stutters,…
from Übermanis Geniac
3 Two nights earlier, at home in admiration of my gymness, I had begun to labour on the colours I was going to travel in; blue-grey, acrylic-practical, at first, but, finally, settled on turquoise in heavy cotton hood, a silver zipper, for the feeling of it: light and strong beneath my eyes. The ring was…
me and you at the park
I We’re on the swing looking up at the sky and the high trees and the white clouds in the East that aspire to be Mountains, in my mind. You see the sickled moon in pale daylight, like a spent light. I’m looking for the spaces in between the houses and the trees, the…
The Boatman
Boatman seeks the horizon as the little prow rides up and the low sun spreads gold over the rolling, tugging sea. He is crouched on a little seat, eyes fixed, guiding her out, a sure boat of curved plank, little diesel pulsing and puffing. He stands sea legs apart to fling a black circle, and…