Here I will post my latest poetry. I have a collection due out in 2020. Poems posted here will not necessarily be in that collection.
the road and the rain
Spider webs on our car lead you to wonder aloud
about a new species of spider called Wing Mirror.
Three paddocks over from State Highway One,
I glimpse the forward motion of a silent train
dragging its grubby white necklace of containers.
In the enclosed space of a car, free range thoughts roam
following their own random map.
Journeys within a journey. Leading me
into remembrance of things once heard
on the radio — long lost lexicons: fishing reports,
the daily round up
of the vegetable market. Chicken Man at lunch-time.
And how we’ve lost the word ‘bowser.’
And the word ‘truly’ as an affirmative remark.
Under the tyres of a truck ahead, puffs of rain.
We pass a gravel pit, a patchworked hayshed,
queueing poplars. A choir of dead trees.
Redundant tyrannosaurus rex irrigation systems.
When we arrive, a skylark is there to lead us
to the right end of the beach.
Where my ancestors are buried.
A tiny bird dealing with a tough wind.
‘Heading west but going east,’ you say.
We find the lost graveyard
where tīpuna, say, ‘Leave us be.’
Leave. Us. Be. That works.
The sea snowy with breakers.
The skylark still battling.
We travel on, country music
above the sound of the road and the rain.
Kilometres farther into the future,
to your ancestral land,
where a lake smacks its lips on a beach piled high
with driftwood. Your grandparents used it
for firewood, you say. Hauling loads back home
by horse and dray. Above us — silent, dark, small
— a swift scythes through the last of this long day’s light.