Poem 126
A very Wellington poem, the waterfront now still perfectly recognisable …
( I like oxygen rolling wheels through our hair, the cranes picking yellow delicacies – and nailing that self-important walk is one of my great descriptive successes … also the poem flows beginning to end and that ease of expression is not to be underestimated – that’s what all the daily/nightly effort, the thousand poems before it, the five-finger exercises, were all about … )
The Story
Let's find the story that can fit us look in the water under the wharf for our black reflection they keep rebuilding the days floor upon floor of air decorated in gulls oxygen from South America rolling wheels through our hair smoke on the seaward horizon but that's not our story finish with me what we started don't walk off in the middle with that self-important walk you've got and I'll give you an end find a story with the right attachments on the wharves the container cranes two storeys high pick yellow delicacies the sea springs up the wall and falls back in pieces we walk up Oriental Parade blown together looking for an ice cream