fresh fruit ice cream
scoop after scoop
of vanilla ice cream
plus my chosen raspberries
smooshed together
to a luscious pink rope
of cold sweet fatty bliss
dropped on top
of a crunchy waffle cone
all because Cedar
passed fourth grade math
Tag: Canterbury
vow
vow
once in a while
I exceed his expectations:
unlatching the door without assistance
banking the shot for the minigolf hole-in-one
driving on the left without incident the first time
(second time I hit the curb; more typical)
nearly calculating the squares in an 8×8 grid
performing to applause
you don’t need to impress me
he says
oh yes
I do
Hector’s Visit
Hector’s Visit
he’s overcome
each time another animal chooses him
overjoyed they’d share a moment
today when the little dolphin
broke away from her pod
and frolicked all around the boat
saying hello a dozen ways
he was amazed
before that, when massive Toy Soldier
the show jumper nuzzled his shirt
he glowed at being touched
the little owl, blue penguin, purring cheetah
each animal he’s really met
says clearly to him
as if in his mother tongue
you are not alone
reconnects his hairless ape life
to the world of fur feather bone wild
his pressed palm feels a real heart beat
and remembers we’re all one
and someday
he’ll feel that in the tree and fern
skipping river and stinging wind
silent stars and now-cold stone
even the space between cells
the negative cloud where all’s uncertain
even there in the nothingness he’ll sense
we’re all one
he’s tethered to every last bit
including his four chickens
that haven’t yet hatched
silent E
silent E
I make ‘em say their names
draw the sound out long
quiet but fierce
fir gets set ablaze
cap transforms into hero-wear
not carries a message
a hug grows large
scars terrify
a pin towers
I blow ‘em up big
make ‘em sound hard
shove little flat hats
down tight on their heads
don’t let ‘em forget
who they are
camping with boys
camping with boys
a blue blur flattens everything inside
the 3-meter-squared-square
I’m a steamroller
sent to flatten evil Farmer McGregor
it growls
then squirms around to roll
the perpendicular pathway
to make sure every bit of the people inside
has been paved into oblivion
Good morning, steamroller
I say, my crushed lips
luckily still able to
form a smile
campsite wishlist
campsite wishlist
scenery, including body of water
public land location close enough to main road to not be a major detour, far enough to not hear traffic
wildlife that entertains but does not steal food (ducks are adequate)
lack of biting insects
access to clean drinking water
toilet with good supply of toilet paper
under $30/night
space between sites
quiet neighbors
dark skies for good stars
vegetation for a windbreak
dry flat soft ground
a clean picnic table
parking space close to tent site
space for boys to frolic
bonus:
hot showers (coin operated is fine)
sink and soap to wash hands
walking track/nature trail
trash cans
recycling
camp host to reign in noisy neighbors if necessary
vegetated barriers to make sure each site has its own nook
washing machine
clothesline
covered cooking/eating area
no one else there
free
Lake Tekapo Blues
Lake Tekapo blues
listening to the brisk burble of glacial gush
that menthol blue pops to mind
and cools my tongue just by thinking
what could a teaspoon of that turquoise tonic do?
what might you be capable of
if those minerals went coursing around your ductwork?
mightn’t you shine
like you were plumbed with cooling rods
like the bonds that held you together/back
might split at any breath?
now imagine immersing your whole heavy body
in that cocktail of salts
bits of earth’s heart holding you buoyant
flat out so all you can see
is that calmer blue sky
that you know somewhere fades to black
but not for you today
cross-Tasman smoke
cross-Tasman smoke
at first it seemed low-lying cloud
like the grey embedded in Great Lakes life
a natural ceiling for a January day
but when I saw the sun
my heart slumped
that sick pink-salmon shade
that without fail means fire
it doesn’t matter how many oceans we cross
the earth everywhere is burning
still we recklessly slake our thirst for jet fuel
while the ash rains down on our hair
we should undoubtedly stay home
satisfied with others’ memories
but it feels like asking too much
to refrain from ever knowing
some of what is left
endings/beginnings
endings/beginning
that time of the year
when the serpent swallows his tail
and the skin is shed inside out
even the eyes seeing afresh
change is always possible
especially tomorrow
flight to Christchurch
flight to Christchurch
without asking
the friendly flight attendant
turns off my light
and puts me to bed
all I can do as we wing our way to
this land of crinkled cliffs
and warm woolly flesh
is scribble work hard and rest
before the scene goes grey
with the gift of sleep
