In the memory of earth

 

Night is only a dress

 

Wet with the friction of lips

 

On the river bank in bubbles of breath

 

Through the harmonicas sinister slow distant ache

 

Of bit flips and bergy bits, crevasses that vanish

 

And every day is another day

 

Where the rhythm tilts away

 

Over valleys stretched beyond the lucid moon

 

Intimate water eclipsed with yellow

 

Cacti buds on crushed feldspar gravels

 

Geckos luminous as mercury black eagles in solar flow

 

When suddenly In a confusion over Black Mountain a conflagration

 

Of shadows, turbulent vermillion and frenzied ashen waters

 

Spill from the whole vivid sky

 

Violet castanets echo the slow scent of red eagle laughter

 

Upon pyramidal sisters

 

Upon lovers of the pagoda

 

And carillon bells ring

 

Over bloodshot Indian hills 

 

 

https://issuu.com/mojaverivermedia/docs/mrr-vol4no2-fall-winter2018_v24b

 

 

 

 

 

About Piet Nieuwland

Poetry is not a luxury, it is a necessary part of the creativity of every day.  

 

Piet Nieuwland has poems and flash fiction appear in numerous print and online journals published in New Zealand, Australia, United States of America, Canada and India.

 

He is a performance poet, edits Fast Fibres Poetry and lives near Whangarei.

 

In a previous life he worked as a conservation strategist for Te Papa Atawhai in Aotearoa/New Zealand 

 

He welcomes email contact at   pietn@outlook.com 

Pacific hypergirls go strut

 

Whispered messages dissolve in rivers of attention and glances

A long sigh exhales through the valley to Kaipara moana  

 

Molecules of sound emanate from luminous branches

A syntax of yellow leaves on black trees  

 

Filaments of falling marked by fluid silvery drops

Accurate shapes, incarnate wairua exclamations  

 

Hallucinations of glamorous echoing veils

Silky clay nostalgias, transgressions of moss  

 

A ferment of revolution in the invisible temples

Vorticies of evaporation on the spidery skyline  

 

Lightning on the fuse of your stare  

 

The moon a flower,

White as a flight of doves 

 

In the black balance

Of velvet night

 

 

 

http://lunchticket.org/pacific-hypergirls-go-strut/ 2017