LATE SUMMER, NORTHLAND, BOOKS 3 & 4 OF THE ILIAD

the fate of the sea
near an anchorage
is to receive
the waste of men

yacht effluent
and the ineffective
mermaid form
of a drowned girl

after the deck party's
exaggerated noise
scouring the calm
out of the bay

her hair is nearly all water
and the grave curves
of her limbs
have softened to grease

she has accepted
the hard
caressing tide
as a kinder groom

ON WHITE CLOUD STREET

sometimes it's like
falling asleep reading
and waking up
in a different story

the slightest shift
of pronunciation
can send you
to the other side of town

resulting in quarrels
with taxi drivers
or forlorn hitch hikes
hours after dark

recognisably alien
you are the livelihood
of a whole tenement
of informers

who can gossip
about your least move
without embarrassment
to anyone concerned

THE CRISIS

poets lamenting deaths in battle
long for strong limbs to be restored
and weep at the waste of youth's intention
broken and red on the charnel ground

and yet it is easy to make soldiers
soldiers and their lovers make them all the time
and only time and a gun must follow
for the game of guns to begin again

COMPLETE ASTRONOMIES

1
stars in their stacks
wait for the moment
to be called to Bethlehem

2
from his balcony
the man in the silk suit
reaches out his thick cigar
across the city at dusk
and with its glowing tip
ignites the moon

3
the last New Zealand poet
in English
removes the bulb from the sky

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