Excursion

Cormorant on a branch

Slow and fat

Drying its wings

A black neon cross

Needing constant adjustment

But always tilting


Urban images repeat over

Capitalism sin and debauchery

The refinement of social strata

Old money


Saturday the 28th

12.42.          

Left luggage

Cross country


Wet loam diesel and resin

Guard dogs

Between stations

Fluorescent nature


The need of room for

Memory
                                   
Catharsis and
                                   
Mysticism


The secrets of the water

A Firm Grip

It's a big day for some

But not here

A breeze and birdsong

A little more gravity than

Yesterday

But that is to be expected


It's the worst day for some

But not here

Exhaust

Light headed and trip footed

Laughing gas


Another day another dialectic

Synthetic equilibrium

To be confused with the real thing

Half full when filling

Half empty when drunk

Soberly


.

Kasimir Malevich. Black Square 1915. Oil on linen.

Blue Moon.

Thirteenth moon circadian

Dead low dead calm

Clear light on the water


Insisting that the people turn

On the shadowing land and

Look to the cheesy radiance

For original nature.

A Little Grey Bird.

I will press on

It's late and the tide is dropping

Leaving smooth wet sand

Bruised purple by the sky


Up from the flats tracking the creek

Pool to pool

Basalt islands in rapids

Water giggling excitedly

On its trip to the beach


Embracing trees cry like birds

As the valley walls rise hard

Volcanics  tectonics  hydraulics

The water below hissing


A little grey bird calls and flutters

In the vast space of the valley

Small hope note dancing

Above rapid and fall


There at the head of the valley

And the foot of the falls

Twilight mixes with the mist

Fluttering birds and shivering ferns.

Unnecessary Recollection.

The old scullery sink, concrete trough with divider

Steel rim and lead pipes.

Mismatched taps bright chrome and dull brass

Sturdy timber structure on wide floorboards.


Lifted once for some plumb adventure

Domestic archeology, desiccated shoe and cat bone

Dry soil and chutney glass elsewhere.


Here a job lot of the same scullery sinks inverted

Along with a serried row of yellow bricks

A futile but homely breakwater playing

Peek a boo with the shiftless sands


A wry weekend battlement built by

An earnest Kiwi Cnut defining

The extent of the Kingdom

The Bailey the Papakianga.



The palace raised and the king in exile

The bush has returned with weeds rampant

And the remnant of a tended garden

Bright blooms of the season garland

Rusting tin and crushed gutter

Unnecessary Protection.

It is nearly spring, a new year, and

There is new growth on the old trees that

Line the derelict parade.


A warm winter sun drops below

Gull grey storm clouds, casting

Painters light and promises.


A jumble of red brick and shell shot cement

Clutter the sand.

Slain lamp posts and wormed jarrah lie.

A sea defence against a tide

That will never now wrong.


The vulnerable have already succumbed

To their forgotten fates leaving

A midden, an unnecessary protection

For dwellings long abandoned and for

Care free seabirds