January 2014

roadkill —
the fly-blown voice
of the unborn

tui —
i hear half
its song

southern cross —
these arms weighed down
with night

with the sea
the rockpool of friends
from my hands

twilight dusk —
the bruises of life
less livid

all innocents . . .
some faces less livid
than others

death knell . . .
a river mouth
exacts its toll

heaven scent —
summer rain anoints
shaky grounds

digitally remastered silence

cloudless moon —
a poet disinfecting
death

under the mist
i separate land
and sky

within sight
candlelight crossmembers
an altar

southern sky —
from heaven's pointers
a wooden cross

river song twisting through time

summer breeze —
kiwi kigo hung out
to dry

gong fu cha —
a shadow passes between
then and now

soft serves drip
from a thousand lips . . .
courtly love

tennis fever -
a third baseman asks
"who's on first?"

a highflier
suffers two wingmen —
summer heat

in the racket
of steamy court battle —
a tennis elbow

set and match
the bottom seed
fans the ball

high noon
time itself sags
on the net

tennis sounds
the increasing orbit
of interest

darting
from side to side
a voyeur's eyes

heat wave
countless eyes shimmer
over the court

plopping sounds
a tennis ball wilts
over the ditch

sullen rose —
the fragrance of a god's
hidden name

lightning storm . . .
a mantra splits open
the heaviness

shadow by shadow
an eel rises to the bread —
what breaks this body?

dawn chorus . . .
a tui sounds out
the rusty gate