Wednesday, February 4, 2009


Silver kiwi perched high above the pastel skyline
with hope that it may be noticed from distant shores,
a night blue needle piercing the southern cross in
the starry sky for no reason but to attract the crowds to
the clouds, form a queue to fall to the top on the bottom
of the earth; gravity reversed. Subject to the queen
the citizenry conforms to a nation, hiding their
Polynesian influences in dark corners, sticking out
their tongues in a confrontational greeting, trying
to find identity in a bird whose sole purpose in life
is excretion. City built on seven volcanoes, a wannabe
Rome, awaits its fall into two, sail covered, azure bays.

© 1998 Mach B

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