new zealand electronic poetry centre


Bob Orr

online works

Pakiri Beach

        for mike beveridge

From a wooden bach’s
silvery veranda
we walked above
a rusted barbed wire
boundary fence
half buried in white sand.
There were thorny shrubs
with big pale yellow berries
that squinted up at us.
Survivors on a margin
between paddock and dune
we had to step our way around them.
Before us the Pacific
bare and blue
unimaginably big.
So buoyant.
Its breakers cracking open –
the Pacific
                              the Pacific Ocean.


© Bob Orr

Last updated 11 May 2001