arrival

I walked into the room

and they had Tarot out

they changed clothes uninhibited

they knew their left sides

  of their bodies

  were feminine

they knew sex was a topic

  open for discussion

they put their legs around their heads

  just casually while talking

and most had crystals 'round their necks

and I knew I was home.

beginnings

I'm impatient to know you.

I want to drink all of your thought things
through my hearing holes, I want the
pores of my fingertips to
absorb the cells of you

... to decipher your skin's lines,
and know their unheard utterings

I'm so impatient to know you -
I forgot we're
short.

I want to say things to you
that I haven't even thought of yet
I want to hear answers
to questions I've not yet dreamt.

stroll

it's nice
to walk
slowly
with you

in the quiet dark
and have our forearms pressed together

and notice strange shadows from the trees
over the path

and notice our shadows' semi-symmetrical shape


and have your head on my sternum and then
my head on your sternum
and then your chin in my hand and
your cheek under my thumb
and your hair straggling everywhere, my hair
knotted in your fingers

it's nice to hover
between new habits and
old ones

it's nice to make friends with the moonlight again
whilst hearing whispers of the day's sun on my skin

"Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

- Harold Thurman. 

absent without leave

excuse me, but I've
checked out for
summer:

I'm AWOL, etcetera...
inbox unattended
cellphone neglected
sorry / not sorry,
and so on

I'll be at the beach
charging my body battery
hot with electricity
and only a few frayed cables,
gold on my skin
instead of in my wallet

constantly ravenous
and fulfilled, and fulfilled

salt as my diet
company for colleagues
music as my occupation
feeling and knowing as my revenue

summer skin II

There's a particular skin
   to camping, to
    this time of year:
  it's a little
       evaporated, it
   sleeps next to the shhh of the ocean
it has a new ochre colour
   and
- sometimes -
 burnt charcoal;

Summer's skin knows long nights,
   dripping mornings
  waking up stuffy, it wears
 smoke-stained hair
it has friends and lovers
   brush up against it
it knows sugar-and-salt

it's
  better
 and
  worse
 at the same time.

Sometimes I feel
like the particles of me are
   summer, like
the essence of me
is summer --
 that as equally as I am
human
   I am
          this time of year.

Perhaps that's why travelling
pulls so strong --
I'm in the wrong place
   at the wrong time, half the year.

(Tawhitokino at New Year's.)

wave

You are part of that wave -

did you 
feel it ?

For all my uncertainty, I've tread 
around you the same,

I've sought your advice

for things I'd 

with you...

Though I don't know how your arrows sit

I know, at least, they're 
anchored in sincerity

and having spent my other currency

 at the beach

    above the mountain

        in the cellar -

all places glittery -

I'd still sit in spotlights first,

if you'd let me.

Addicted to not sleeping. 

colour war : shape shifting

No-one's organized enough to save the world

Because we're all busy doing things that destroy it.