new zealand electronic poetry centre
  
 

 

 Capital of  the minimal
B i l l  S e w e l l

These Hills
              (for Brian Turner)


I donít propose to grizzle any longer on the beach
at Tomis, or by the waters of Babylon. These hills
will always provide a shoulder to weep on,
and on windy days (the kind that cripple trees)
a deck to take off from, if I really have to go.
All I need is the illusion of solace or escape
and I wonít worry about falling off Ė
                                                                You see,
suddenly, one day, too much time has passed.
I become aware that theyíve shelled and divided
up the heart of my childhood. And I donít
suppose that now Iíve left school the winter skies
of Northern Europe are any brighter.
                                                                So I hold on
to these hills, which change their costume, but not
their shape, catching me daily, in every weather.


[from MTFLG, McIndoe]

 


© The Estate of Bill Sewell 2004


 


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Last updated 13 August, 2004