suburbed cube

Each suburbed cube

holds its life a little differently.

I translate that as an invitation:

Come, see who I am.

Photo: Driveway, North Island, New Zealand

Text: Excerpt from an abandoned poem

the moon is always full

Last night, the moon was full.
As tonight, and every. And yet.

Photo: Fruit in plastic, Los Angeles

taking this big ferry

skyscraper shore
engine drum

your quiet seat
engine drum

rain pats the ocean
engine drum

city big ship lights
engine drum

I want to find you in the cold wind channel
but all the waves are going the other way

I never see who is driving me home

Photo: Jordan Ferry, Hong Kong
Text: 'Taking this Big Ferry' is from my book, 'Delicate Access'
I used to take two ferries to get to my home. Slow, wide, wooden seats, open to ocean wind. The photograph records the first ride, on an old vehicular ferry, which used to run from Jordan District to Central District. The poem is set on the second one, from Central District to my carless island, fifty-minutes away, the engine soothing, the captain always unseen.

mother, mothering

We have two cows, always together. Both mother the other, biologically or socially. Sometimes they groom each other,  eyes all dreamy. This is Binny, who bellows every so often for grass or hay, for self, and mother, one or two years older.

Photo: Binny, a steer, Carterton, New Zealand