journal

No sign of last night’s storm the city sharp as a sheet of die-cut componentary with the suggestion of a merely conditional life.

walk the dog, inside the scene another smaller figure, who has left the island and an even smaller dog tied to an armrest. inside these, waves form on the lazy swell of a sheltered sea— the dog looks at the figure who in his heart has to fit and barely

I feel a tension unlike any I have ever known resistant to description I can only give you images that are vague and far-fetched images I do not expect you will understand, images incapable of resolution ineffective in communicating, and at this point I am reluctant I admit but it

rain on the inlet in McKerrow returning to walk the sandspit following Graeme into the dunes look at the beautiful tresses of a daughter of the sea whose lover lay on land towards the Mays again, May was the English name given one of the kaumatua Tutoko’s two daughters

over the groundmatterlaid down byabstract bodiessome knownto usas motherswhose givingnow is renderedineffable nowhere concretelike the potential for birthof childrenfrom concrete wombsor as fathers recalled butwhose powersnow are decomposed to bacterial potencies of future men, women andall of those clinging to innervestments like passengershanging off bone-hooksin the walking, love-making hulksof a