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Timpanys

a place on the road
between Waimatua
and Mokotua

where the land collapses
waterlogged toward
the great Seaward Moss.

You hardly notice
houses sinking behind
ragged macrocarpa

the only locals
are sheep belly-deep
in grass.

The windmills roll
continuously
and you don't stop -

above Foveaux
a black river of birds
flows on.




Note: This poem previously appeared in "Passport
Stamps" (2001), assembled by James Norcliffe and David Howard