November 19, 2010

I want to share with you
the sand and water of my days,
the grit and flow,
wish you to be my
my hourglass,
my catchment, wish

you to rest your lips upon
my stories, what I see with my
eyes and without them, what I hear
with my skin and taste with my
nostrils, wish you to

know me to my dermis and beyond, to
live my experience as your
own, because I am
not enough, there is
not enough of me for all

In every cell, I contain
a universe, I am
in and of it, I am
it all and I am nothing, I am
the grain of sand that contains the
ocean, I wish to

feed you all of me,
grain by grain, I wish to
drink the rivers you
overflow with, I wish us to
meet at the estuary and
there where we mix I wish to
flow out into you because I

too much,
because I

Written 19 November 2010 – ER


Write What You Know

June 11, 2010

I don’t know anything
about everyday things.
I don’t know anything
about cups of tea or
washing clothes or
giving birth or
pruning plants.
I don’t know anything about
changing oil or
deciding what to have for tea.

I know a lot about
kings and queens,
about magic and fire,
about the feel of the winter wind
as it sears sharply through outspread feathers,
about the view of the earth from space,
about the composition of stars and
what it’s like to live on the moon.

I don’t know anything about
changing nappies or
paying bills or
smoko break at the office or
sitting next to the guy on the bus who stinks
or the last two steps to the door at my house or
the way the light in my mother’s eyes is fading.

I know a lot about
the soft swish of the mane on Prince Charming’s white horse,
about castles and warcries and
the pages of books
I know a lot about how it feels to
fly on the summer breeze,
about how to build a nest in a safe tree,
about how to captain the Starship Enterprise.

I don’t know anything
about everyday things –

but oh, all the things I know
and could tell you about
how to be free!

Written 4 April 2010 – ER

[NB: for anyone who actually knows me – I would like to remind you that the Truth of poetry resides in the sense it conveys, not in exact facts – that is the beauty of it – and that poetry can be fiction and still convey truth.  And the light in my actual mother’s eyes is not fading! :P]


Poetry Class

June 9, 2010

Pull apart this poem for me now
Pluck its pleasure for your knowing’s sake
– not smooth its gossamer lines to savour
soft upon your ear –
but rend it roughly limb from limb,
dissect it piece for piece until
its sweet cacophony is naught
but fractured syntax and a
wicked rhyme –
each sound considered and
with a purpose placed
and gone the gentle mystery born
of soul-inspired haste.

Written 4 April 2010 – ER



May 2, 2010

It starts with “laud” –
to praise, revere
(and sounds like “lord”)
– and ends with a num-ness,
a lack of feeling, an absence
of even a tingling at the lips
or fear

a common first choice
of last resort, it seems,
for so many quiet women then –
tired of life under lord,

In this day and age,
we find other ways
– with names like Paroxetine,
Weight Watchers,
career –
and don’t even know we’re trying to fill
the lack of simple

Written 2 May 2010 – ER


Ocean Song

April 25, 2010

This is the freest you’ll ever be
right now in this foxton ocean
you are the fire in the sky
you are the salt in the sand
you are the gravity that holds you
and the wind that sets you free
you are the waves that live and die for you
you are the height of every crest
and the deepest depths that follow
you are the ocean as it aches for you
carries you, fills you, takes you
you are the ocean, wind and stars
you are the ocean
you will never be so free
you have always been this free
you are the sea.

* * *

Moulin noir
you are held by tea and mismatched socks
on this couch
come what may
you are still the sea
I hope you don’t mind
I hope you don’t mind…

* * *

This is the alivest you’ll ever be
here in this freezing foxton ocean
you are the sea that burns you, chills you,
fills your every pore and
the spaces between electrons
you are the sea that crashes into
your body like a wall
that consumes you.
Your body is defined only
by the absence of sea
you are the space where the
sea is not, and yet
you are this freezing ocean
as it slams into the lack of you,
all of you
you are the wind that lifts you
upon the wave that
is you
you are freezing, shivering, awake
you have never been so alive
you have always been this alive
you are the sea.

* * *

I hope you don’t mind
fresh warm water sheds
salt from skin but
face upturned
you are still the sea

come what may…

Written 23 January 2010 – ER



March 6, 2010

The ringing in his ears
made it hard to hear the music.
I know the feeling.

Written 07 March 2010 – ER


Orpheus On Guitar

February 26, 2010

You play my strings like I am
an instrument for you, I
sing out your rhythm at your will –
touch again my A string, my G string,
bend me again to your melody.

Your fingers pull a pattern out of wood and steel,
and I , the stones, the trees,
I am it all as it bends to you,
I am nothing but the sighing wind that
fills your lungs
in the lead up to the bridge.

I explode forth
as the pieces of your poetry and I
fade away in your silence ‘til you
sing again. Great poet: I am your melody.

Written 25 Nov 08 – ER