- Images of a pixel galaxy
glide across the underbelly of Stardome.
Collective retinas dot-to-dot constellations.
We pulse neon in the womb of genesis.
- IMAX movie magic
projects 3-D lips through darkness,
past the row of popcorn kids
to surround sound me a kiss.
- Western Springs gangster geese
waddle their feathered rumps to encircle tourists;
hustling for bread – standard fees demanded
for click-click-click of Nikons.
- Chevalier, your waters tremor beautiful
under the moon and the sun.
When I dive beneath your skin-deep
I dissolve into ballerina ocean.
- At one end of Long Bay
stands a cliff engraved with white noise
that blares in the barnacle ears
of hacked rock whales.
- Bark-skin of fat octopus limbs
spew from Albert Park’s dank incense earth.
Feels like wooden elephants;
smells like Papatūānuku giving birth.
- Swollen dancer extends a butterfly greeting --
temptation at Botanic Gardens.
Beware of efflorescent thorns in fluorescent fields
when the sun sets at Eve.
- A crucifix of tubular lights
carried up Mount Roskill by orange vest workers;
Auckland Council Christianity
burns noughts and crosses confessions.
- An army of miniature green blades
stand at attention in my backyard.
A neighbour visits in his wheelchair.
His feet do not bleed.
