north winds blowing

north winds blowing
from some point
or source (more likely)
hitting out at the south wind
(so we need not always remember the south pole)
freezing frozen broken crappedout countryside
to a forgotten stillness that was
always there only
behind the screen
breathless wars perhaps
you an i frontin across
the twelfth hour
(having been the twilight zone)
dying leaves rattling after us
before the milk truck
we drank in togetherness
a thousand blue stars
on our ciggies
an thinking hope peace and legends
i walked the gutter
beside you in
a swinging silence saying
i wanted to be smaller
than you and your laugh
in deepened waters of your mind
only i was dead ly serious
till i noticed the gutter
sloped up to the road

nearing your room
an your different-everytime-dreamland-bed-
thinking stones (and trees)
an remembering the tomb
of ancient fires
found for first time
again we walked up tinakori road
in that greying afternoon

an the nearly-dead leaves purple flower walk
thru the gardens
remembering the seven gardens of eve
or somethin
claiming away red & burntout ferns
(later for a water flown milkbottle on the communal mantlepiece)
till walkin out the Gate
Saw a timefilled cracked (with tiredstanding)
notice all ways explaining some obscure
reasoning
why i couldn't take them
from the public eye
(not even to protect from their ego) but i did
an then watching a fresh
faced family
feeding swans bread
an i felt bare handed
you said swans are vicious
an
kill . ...?
—hilary baxter

for you know who

... sitting in the blue-band-auckland-streak-express
spilling yellow plastic Sun cups of tea
an seeing no hangups in the sky
(with bent surprise)
but broken pock marked ground
(with the usual resignation)
an kiddin myself to death
that what still lives there is Ok

i saw a jet plane
write L-O-V-E across the universe
in smoke and air

—hilary baxter

soft morning smiling

The coldness of the road numbs our feet
setting free the mind to ran
on ahead/warming the way to the sea
Along the foreshore we wander
with the darkened sen spray
laughing in our faces/guy with
characteristic youthful
abandon/look at our bright eyes
our white teeth and breathe our
innocence if you don't believe

Tiredness takes our feet milking us fall
into the soft sand/the waves rush up to us
like excited dogs with a train rattling roar
to lick our hands and then retreat
/leaving a wet wandering
trail

Morning brings the sun
in colours of burning red
and i disentangle myself
from her sleeping arms
to roll drunkenly
like a guillotined head
over the sand/
pick myself up and gaze meditatively
into the brightness that is the sun/
suddenly i feel very old and mature/
sagacious and decrepit/
mind in mellowness begins to wander

She comes to life and cuts into my hallucination
with a sensitivity that only comes with familiarity
and practice/turns my eyes from the light playing
decoratively on her ash-blonde hair and take her
hand/together we tumble into the sea feel its freshness
bite through our clothes shiver to fly with the salt
edged breeze at our heals/in haze in oblivion we go on
our way/sometimes running/sometimes walking.

ngan 68

going

remember her not
as a fair face
for there have been too many:
so i choose to go
remembering her name/

face fraught with innocence
flesh with understanding
with her mouth at my ear/
i see and understand
what little of placidity
there is before my experience . . .

—ngan 68

Photo: Dave Blacklock