Dead dads don’t listen , even if they did when they drew air We keep on having the conversations even though they are not here Dead dads don’t forgive , even if they did when they still lived We keep asking for forgiveness , even though they have nothing to give Dead dads don’t have…

I sit in my garden , my feet are bare, the dog luxuriates in autumn beams, my shoulder is burnt, my spirit is sagging, both will heal with time The house forms a wall , a deep rampart A division from the outer world , my phone is a port hole, a temptation to ignore…

I live on the edge of a transit , a great migration of steel, and of dairy and of grain. Of richly scented stock and indecipherable machinery , of loaves of bread and of trunks of pine. Sometimes it rumbles and sometimes it roars, occasionally it slumbers or hides in the wind. The nation’s artery…

I believe in all the gods and none of them ,I say to the holy man between sips of beer. He smiles back , part amused , part adversarial , part happy inebriated. If there are gods they are here , in this pub in a moment of happiness. I believe in all the gods…

Where I come from air smells of salt and seaweed, Of coconut tinged gorse and of harbour rich ozone Here the air smells of river and of leaf mold Of oily pine trees and of tangy stock trucks. Where I come from the air surges and rages Its pauses for dramatic effect, grandiose and self…

Amongst the early chilled air and brisk southerly she pulls sleep from her bed and walks towards a cage of neon . Vacant sterile serene. Detergent and steriliser give way to exasperated wary faces and trinkets of gold …gold . The saviour , the sin, the holy . Endure , endure one more hour ,…

I walk through misty rain. The dog jumps and charges in the wind. We come to where manuka and kawakawa meet grass . Here my grandparents lie. Ashes beneath the turf. A place reserved for those who served. Survivors of a second world war. All but passed now, all ashes beneath the turf. I sit….