blackbird lady to a favourite NZ artist, Susannah MacDonald this lady i know, have never met, she paints the things that come where your dreams leave off giant conical shells of the family volutidae large as touch in the brain the wrapt cape and spindle of their form decayed the growing mouths of shadow drifting…
Month: April 2018
The Cheering Has Stopped
The old man’s leg kicks The winger whips wide He is on the frosted field, taut frame and ten quid in the bank Big runs, cold air in his lungs Betrothed on the sideline He asked for her hand Planted spuds for diamonds. Fifty knicker if you dig ‘em yourself His arm swings The foe…
the street lights
Leaves are stricken pale. Gold (the interplay of cloud/moon, head- lights) – the flax shadows the letter box. When shall the cat learn? There’s nothing here to be frightened of. The sudden rush of wind, feet, is no threat; do you think I’d let something bad happen to you? It’s…
A beautiful lullaby
I was walking on a road , i saw a bird a bird who was finding someplace to hide his head in the stormy rain he was all alone looking for a shelter and a home A bird who don’t know how to fly he is standing here , in a rainy night sky he…
Rising Star
Cold, Cold night No one to say Hi !! So I look at the sky Clouds passing by Cold, Cold night I look up high Calling my Name A Star in the sky Lonely, Not alone but, I am fine, Said I Stars shining Bright I see them in the sky Sitting on a tree…
Gunslinger On The Line
This carriage groans with its own heft. It has been here too long: The paint falls from its flanks, The leather of its seats has formed patterns: Little stars spreading into other stars; white lines of split leather. Please be seated. Face forward. There is a clock in the platform window; black hands saying It…
tectonic anomalies
I five December two16— the PM key stops turning— resigns. II prepArdernin Hindsight. tv cameras from helicopters, army supplies. the sluicing rains have closed the only functioning road. III located where I work, a landfill on a plateau, our store of clothing, blankets, was busted into (by my landlord, in his 4 x 4, to…
Exposure
After all; I am Possessive. I should. Be alone. It stings. A year. Before. I’m grown. Listen to the wicked wave hiss. It creeps up; whores. I’m bare as a white sheet.
Abeyance
You gleaming like water evaporated by cause, I blew the chalk dust from my hands, Late on his deed, it was done, It became another clown prince dream, For us, time was a myth. Under the street lights at night, The fine art of the distant moon mirrors my empty hands, Hands that bled at…
wish
Where does sound go & when does it stop? [Note to self: research this] I saw a boy with his hands torn off – a still, on impact. The next shot is a girl opened wide; the mouth, the eyes call – . The moment solidifies, is livid, remains what it is…
filled
filled for Keikei heard in the warmth the leak of cricket into summer a tap of darkness that can never be turned off the more you try the more it trickles soaking up through the dry grass of the hill and the wind filled us with secrets our hands told each to…
starvation
suffering gives reason to believe & not to. i’m bedevilled meanwhile by symbols, images of death, martyrdom, memory, the clump of body blows, curved steel on flesh; the severing of a boy’s consciousness. i choose not, not because it’s rational, but as protest. i have striven not for correctness, philosophic…