August 2013

winter rain—
an ant bears the weight
of the world


misty rain —
a glimpse of mountains
fill the garden


 

fluttering web —
by Hiruharama's light
my will bleeds dry


 

rising sun —
an earthquake rumbles
here or there


 

desolate wind —
by a sanctuary light
silence wails


 

night sky —
the Southern Cross cuts
through my heart


 

look now!
forever now
this light


 

such darkness . . .
a kumara swells within
night's belly


moonstruck,
a river wanders off
in a dream


 

seen through,
an honesty ripens
in darkness


 

wordless . . .
a hatchling flutters
in the dark


 

unmarked grave —
forest shadows rise
against the mound


 

crescent moon —
silence drifts out of
my empty page


 

expanding night . . .
the sound of a morepork
between stars


 

'fiat lux'—
after seven days,
this vast chasm


 

earth tremor . . .
the basso profundo
of ancient gods


night vigil . . .
this stillness pregnant
with her presence


 

a cosmic storm
twirls through her fingers . . .
butterfly sounds


 

darkened church —
a votive candle lingers
in the mist


 

setting sun —
light rages against
its dying


 

morning dew
even now perishing
but the birdsong . . .


 

wayward wind —
the whole world glistens
within a web


 

broadcasting a storm
a widening web spans trees
of indifference


 

clearing sky —
my GPS intones
its elegy


 

'property is theft' —
the grey warbler raises
a shining cuckoo


 

trembling pen —
river fog redefines
my limits


 

what pathos!
how a dewdrop becomes
a metaphor


 

spring elegy —
a morepork prophesying
through the night


unrolling
darkening scrolls —
winter tide


 

rite of spring —
the path lost
in a delirium of light


cross tide . . .
godwits imprint
their return


 

Anzac Day . . .
an ashen grey sky
reddens


 

spring awakening . . .
a child breathes deeply
the winds of war


 

acrid wind . . .
the scent of night,
a weapon


 

winter retreat —
love-lies-bleeding droops
into darkness


 

la petite mort . . .
the coldness of the sea
withdrawing


 

blood red sea . . .
a day's coagulation
of beached words


 

winter's end —
a neverending story
quickens the past