Tuesday, July 26, 2016
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
Leave five billion dollars in
hard-earned taxpayer money
by the ruins of the Cathedral.
Do this or your city dies.
P.S. Don't even think of going
to the authorities.
We are the authorities.
NOTE: The poet wishes to acknowledge the anthology, Leaving the Red Zone: poems from the Canterbury earthquakes, edited by James Norcliffe and Joanna Preston and published by Clerestory Press, February 2016, in which this poem first appeared.
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Photographer Unknown (Lost in the mists of Time)
On the train to Haifa
I think about my father
in wartime Palestine,
a different time, a different name
but the same place.
His memories of oranges and beaches
and warm, Mediterranean swimming
are the times he chose to rescue
from the six years when the world
was drowning in its own blood.
The weather is blue and grey
but the sun shines
like my father’s medals
on his blue-grey air force uniform
that entranced me as a child.
As the helicopter gunships prowl over Mount Carmel,
speeding north to Lebanon,
I wonder what times I will choose to rescue
from a land built out of longing,
but paid for in blood.