What surprises me most is being

coincidental. If we really believe

        it’s the end, it doesn’t matter

how much this evangelism costs.
The economy’s shaking. His trolley holds

twenty kilos of rice, ten litres of water.

Everyone thought I was strange in Christchurch

then we got The Big One. Good luck, I said,

you’re going to need more water.
Such imperfection. It eats

what was recently purchased,

the high of salvation thin as old sheets.

                        Get the song between your teeth;

sound moves inside us then we move to let it.

Do it professional: put yourself to one side.

In hard times, sociopaths rise.
While you were crying you got snot in your eyes.

Her life story is her story, not her life.

The fierce stones of Greece

have gifted us democracy, so we argue

which never convinced anyone,

just made good television. 
200ks per hour

gales take roofs. New all-you-can-fly ticket.

Government money for a sanctuary.

                        civil libertarians

         my powers of apprehension

            Each response to the challenge

of Self-Management falls on a continuum:

                                              Productive to Absent.

One day, always having to be right

will be counted among the disabilities.
th  end s in sight.

Thank god. The hard bit’s been knowing

I won’t be around to see how this turns out.

As one of the minor characters

     (let’s face it)     in this genre

     I’m sure to be killed off

by a giant wave, one of those deaths

     deep enough for a close-up

a snatch of fading breath, some tears.

                  If it’s not happening

 we don’t have to do anything

and if it’s fucked we can’t do anything

             we flip between these extremes.
nature vs. narrative

    A tale carries the idea

to the mind through the soft body.

Talk in miracles, smoke in the car,

a tangle of weeds at the throat.

There’s no charming the oppressor.

Give up the myth of reversible power.

The lord gives and he takes.

Find other ways to be safe.
Black tattoos on a white, white face.

How beautiful the deliberate lie

                   they had time to work on it.      Letters

stich and drop. Kiss me like a bad garden,

the lazy mural that lasts for years.

I don’t need any evidence.
At the end of the earth we learn to dance.

      Your arms get tangled in your legs.

I’ve suffered a lot but then who hasn’t, he said.

Though I’ve watched since it was a dark mess

the lifting light shows a shift

                                      when I look

                                      look back

I can feel the click.