CLUB APOCALYPSE

the blackshirt fundamentalists won't rest
until every power pole
between here and Taranaki
has a Jesus nailed to it

they'll start with the gay ones
and finish it with anybody
straight or bent or perplexed
reckless enough to disagree with them

their God is a god of monotone
who made men out of clay
and women out of men
and left out the universe

ISLAND NIGHT

something stirs under the Pacific
raising less than a millimetre of swell
slim as a shadow under a door
weightless as night

so it is the dead mourn
those they have left still mixed
in life's dream or confusion
but know they must be patient

because to be dead
is to be without hunger
even for quiet starlight over the lagoon
or the sea's insistence through reef passages

---

Return to CONTENTS