Writing in Whangarei

In the rough ash

in the rough ash when the clouds fall away

and skeins of flowers bounce out from the sun

with the air polarized and columns discharging

the friction of water falling and elastics of liquid

magmatic foam transpires the humidity of enclosed space

and minerals sweat down their planes of symmetry.

the saturated tents drape over spars beams and poles limp,

pulled into curves by the migration of rain through cloth

and the dripping from heavy edges, cables and wires taut,

a stilt legged bird, it beats like a drum in the shower.

the rivulets spouting from catchments that swing and fold,

they shake and flap as the wind buries itself  into the porosity and tension.


the day opens like pipi closes like tuatua

and in between the roll of fish on sine waves tombolo lizards

and rhyolite cones, obsidian slivers pulled through trade

current jelly on flax twines, rafts on the Waikato


and slit gong drums beating Whangamata Whangamata.


One response

  1. Cracking inal stanza, really good.

    July 3, 2011 at 8:05 am

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