non-poem poem
some nights
merely typing
is enough
Tag: Christchurch
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
