*occasional pieces, close, and timely a small requiem for Beanie We are somewhere In the middle of nowhere Dreaming of arriving Under the century's Black sun A rock eye, an eye running with water We are somewhere The last eyes ever to see it Will be closing soon

I wrote A Piece of Fabric for my father, Anthony Frederick Taylor 2 January 1937 – 24 April 2009. I read A Piece of Fabric at the memorial service, held at St. Matthew-in-the-City, Auckland, 29 April 2009. The service went over four hours. Raymond Boyce spoke, Roger Hall remonstrated, Paul Barrett

by the fact that I am here, you gain everything; by the fact that I am not, you lose nothing. OR I AM THAT WITHOUT WHICH THIS IS NOT. OR the surface cannot make contact with the surface. BEFORE EVERYTHING WAS MANIFEST Danaë, or resistance Almost a thousand days at

from Redcliffe to Craig Larkin's death I does it last the night a deep a deep fissure suspended day like ash light half the half tolting belief-ridden down the grain grey of a twilit beach-head what measure round sleep sleep curled in sleep’s organs lungs brain a

lines from the script for stage, Sweetheart, over____ two rivers There are two rivers One flows over the top of the other. They run in opposite directions. The first is measured by extent Although it has depth And although the second Is measured by depth It also has extent. The

being the pieces from which RJF working script was composed in 2007 (pieces—not poems as such, except inasmuch as such things are meant for performance, to be rendered in speech, to be spoken and embodied, too.) saponification: first rendering Rumours that they made Humans into soap Are no more