new zealand electronic poetry centre

Leigh Davis

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Blasting at a grey wall,
the ruin of rockdrills, anything takes Willy's eye,
workmen looking like Ezra Pound,
uncommon American, un aviateur
sinking below the palm trees in a gale -
.. the paradigm's flexible, ubiquitous, seen
in swapped trenchcoats before, where Willy draws down
his cargo, drab Dakotas, dipping
on a primitive airstrip where he waits, plain, believing,
a scarlet bird breaking from the trees
in simple transport, printed
over one sky, time, together,
vivid as Mr Olson's kingfisher, as 'white-
baiters, with the bright mesh in their baskets'



Last updated 4 October, 2009