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Untimely death! The dog knows it, the owl

predicts it; even the cat flaps an ear

in its sleep, but you


know nothing about it, laid there as if.

Did the crossword, picked a scab,

your teeth. WT


F: I surmise WT

deal is, why you

crapped out – like a bulb


in the toilet, like a whore

to your job, your


house of ‘fab’

house of ‘fab’*
to Paul McCartney at Mt. Smart






was a boy
who swam out of
dreams every
who couldn’t swim
who played so hard
in the dusk and ate
like a dinosaur,
one night
i first heard you
in our kitchen
on the old black bakelite
radio, ‘can’t buy me love’,
the boom-bam stride
of your bass your voice
leaping out of me
the ‘bloody hell’
of it all, i just couldn’t
hold the high thrill in
started running in dance
around the kitchen until
the last ringing chord
you singing like a
big brother who
wanted you happy
as you could be…..
now this summer evening
i’m here to see you as
far away as through the
wrong end of time’s
telescope, the most likely
rocking and poppy lad
taking on his hits….
with a voice on the
hill waving sweet
in age, ‘here today’
you sang that parley
with your old dead
bandmate John and
no one on earth could
stand in your shoes to
sing or say it better….
thanks my sacred friend
sacred as the muses are
of youth and childhood
for taking me
back to the house of
‘fab’ i once lived and
ran in like so many
in the wind and dark
around me this night
on the cheaper seats
to which you ever
would play


december 2017

*The Beatles were also known as the ‘Fab Four’.

Breazey Dream

To walk in a field of dandelions and tall grass
It was all going fine until we broke our backs
He’s stuck there still trying to figure it out
A dream catches a breeze
Out the door and down the road she goes
To begin living our dreams we must first wake up
Modes of the infinite time it takes to beckon this truth
To see and squint from under glass
Give to life when it asks you until someone said
The cutter of grass works in shelved audacity
The tops of dandelions chopped off
Tumbling to the piles of earth floor
Gathered into brown paper bags
That other woman was an alpine flower
Left him on an unanswered cliff edge
Trying to figure it out


my situation

Two blackbirds, a speckled thrush

& a myna casually shit upon the deck

regular each morning, peck the wooden

cat bowls & when I surprise them, leave.


I end up with these friends. I’m no Snow

White but I do like to feed them which is

my fault, I know. But who knows, because

I don’t think that accounts for it entirely.


Last year this cat moves in. I’m at

the front door as he jumps the fence,

brushes past my leg; puts his bag down,

showers, takes a long stretch, & curls up

on the sofa. WTF. The other cats

don’t like it but what can you do?


Today I wiped the deck & tied nylon string

across the posts, 40 mil above the railing

which I’m told will put the birds off.



It’s the next day now & only the myna came,

which is not as good as nothing but ok.


So, what: am I reduced to this state



The soul may yet rise

as the flesh declines. Because.


When I lie at night some-time

dead tired.. I’m, not there

anymore or, yet sleeping..


I’m nowhere I know or

no place at all.


Miles away. Even

the crimson flowers

of the Pohutukawa

do not claim me.

The house & garden.

Victoria Street. The Museum.


Where I am

makes no difference

to my situation,


which colours everything.

The Field

Flanks twitch, gleam

under winter sun

horses – six a team,

trailing chain and line,

surge across the land;

the ploughshare

folds deep dark soil.

Ten thousand feet

trampled this earth;

the ploughman,

hat down and hands aloft,

brings up the scent of time


She cuts

the waves so

fine & the

sea breathes long

grass stilled &



You could stray in a sea of wheat

all day if there’s nothing more

or walk behind the street

an ear for the waves of her





she                                                                                                                               as


I count the beads

on your string as your

lips form shapes which

give substance

to the emptiness of air,

& meaning. I go


on like this, hours,

fingering your pearls, feel

minutes drop, lose my

way & when you’re

still, it’s like

everything else is.


not telling

not telling

when i returned
the land came closer
the trees  gusted
near me the moon
as though
nothing more than
a small summer cloud
through broad daylight
watched me
the land
was ready to tell
me the great secret
since i had come
then it all turned
away in shadow
from me


26 july 2012


even the birds

need to shut up.


everyone does

& everything.


long live silence!

with my ear muffs


on so tight not even light

can escape them.


they’re industrial.

all i hear is the throb


of my head, if that.

2 sisters

When i got there

she was on her back & her sister


who’s like eighty herself

wasn’t much help. We pulled her


up but she died & after that

i thought about it, her stiff


board, the flaked bits of her

skirt & cardigan, the stink of


dog, how heavy she was.

I’d never seen her room before


or thought of it

on the other side of my wall.



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