September 2016

September marks for me the time of year I was born - the beginning of spring in Aotearoa / New Zealand.
 

 

 

 

 

 


 

An Ancestral Silence

darkening wind –
my mind comes to stop
at nothing
September wind –
a terror unheard of
since unspoken
the morning murmurs
"m’illumino d’immenso" –
September light
fantail
in the flutter 
of her
I score
I know not what 
with words
all around
the impression of self
where light falls
a -
dna or morse
to a t
light of spring –
this longing to become
a buttercup
spring tide
words somersault
in the wind
a grain of salt
Lot's wife looks back
to the twin cities
lost for words
fallen rimu dragged
through the mill
spring
as it is called
out of step

all about spring release

setting sun
my vowels lengthen
with my words
coffin thuds –
the sound of forgetting
beginning
dead calm
before the beginning
and after . . .
night of nights
a smoldering wick
voices the prayer
unbidden bird
the name for it 
births itself
in the beginning
a lack of words
for nothing
as you read
an old silence becomes
audible once more
filling in the gaps
left after words
haiku
theory of everything
the grand design
even here
a cheshire cat
of words
this endless hunt for meanings,
finally a kind of curious greed
and still
leaden words sink me 
ever deeper
in-between
breath-wide moments
nothing but

this prosthesis
re-membered
word by word

leaves break down a death sentence
 
 
 
wind whorls fingerprint man-dust