The North

land with a hook in its mouth
comes up for legends

pumice in the veins
and ropy rocks diminishing seaward
bones rivers have chewed
compacted into middens

close woven
a sea grass basket will clasp forever
its hoard of univalve nacre
eyes of the deep god

Urewera Camp

glowworms on full beam
light up mud banks
in the bush at night

we show the children
so we can see the gleam
reflected in their eyes

The View from the Mountain Road

in certain suburbs folks get nervous
about a poet teaching their children

maybe he's perverted liking words like that
maybe he smells
     

                  or will make them
vague about really important matters
such as the brand name on their shoes

daily the little shell of the acceptable
the limited and sure comes under assault
where to draw the line
as opposed to writing it

poets are all right if unemployed or dead
or published by a university press
but not too close among us
where they might want us to read the stuff

---

Return to CONTENTS