I have walked the length of the fish from tail to spout - jk baxter ( Read more... )

on a five minute walk between mine and a friend's ( Read more... )

The white whale,

the book like a metaphor for itself

reading it like an interminable journey across a vast ocean

only a demented madman such as Ahab would stay the course,

plunging into the depths on some doomed voyage,

in the hopes of capturing it

Housesitting in Ponsonby ( Read more... )

Some days I know the only thing that will make me feel better, allow me to hold my head up at the end of the day, relieve me of the great burden of sentences filling my brain, causing my head to rest on the table, is to write ( Read more... )

I once wrote a story while sunbathing naked on a rocky beach in Croatia, but now I dream of an office, with a fireplace for the animals to sit in front of, a stacked bookshelf and an antique desk with secret recesses which spring open when the correct button is pushed. I want the kind of office where Ratty or Badger or Mole would write their ( Read more... )

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Buddha

Every day the neighbours walk their dog,
Buddha, at some ungodly hour of the morning.
Such cheerfulness so early,
is difficult to bear
until turned to a koan.
Buddha
my morning call to prayer

Veiled city

Auckland sits
like a myth
on a milky sea

Distant lightning-rod citadels
illuminated sky
and spurs of land jutting darkly into the water