new zealand electronic poetry centre

 

Graham Lindsay


online works

 
Juxtaposed windows

 
Father Lapsely composes
Sunday's sermon walking

ill onto blinding mudflats, out to where
the water is sky-coloured, sky the colour
of the hills seen through mist
his entrails scrawled
on a tiny white

flag of paper. Recovering a little

from blowjob thoughts, he thinks
he sees
the land the people once

wondered about and cared for
despite its seeming indifference

who now find it easier to say
Blow you Jack, I'm okay
.
Damn it, he curses

how about some light? Turn up the light you stingy
blighter, this estuary is like a morgue!
And adds, despairing, I think
therefore I am a dimwit.

Gray against grey, gulls treadle the mud
to bring shellfish up.
The pink hulk of a retired speedboat rests
a hip on koru-patterned sand.

Pink-breasted, pink-legged, a heron

rises like a cripple. Th-th-that's
more like it
, he stammers
then turning notes

the children behind picture windows
ablaze with sunset genuflecting
before cathode heroes.

 

Graham Lindsay


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Last updated 15 July, 2004