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Watching the sky speak

Determined not to leave,
Watching the wind flower
On the delirious vines
Watching the sky sing
Like a eucalyptus sway
Straining in the velocity
The leaves quickening in the pixelated gush
Present in this ordinary experience, anchored
By the ship bells pure note
Dawn opens its skin

Open to the world

A thousand layered eyes traverse the latitudes
And longitudes of memory acting
As if time did not exist never

Two glances meet without emptiness
Burning ferocious enzymes and beautiful pairs
Of impatient chromosomes circle in whirlpools
Of magnetic fields an

Intoxicating blush of faintly red
Plum petals fill footprints
On the memorial shore a
Calculation of the
Gigantic wok full of stars the

Sound of splashing water, the droplets flowers
Of grief in

Fleeting greens of boundless fig
Leaves a tapestry woven
By the sky expanding its iterations
Sharing the world
Unable to be alone

On the wing of light

We hunt the undertow
In the lyric of salt
In the memory of an afternoon
Entombed by viscous warm
Fluids, eyelids closing
Over flagrant lustrous red
Calla lily flames, candles
On the altar, she spinning
Like a shining mirror along a
Narrow path to the evening undress
Of feeling, filmy fern
Filigrees, soft translucencies
On the fulcrums
Of equinoctial hours

Piet Nieuwland lives near Whangarei in New Zealand. He trained as a forester and worked as a conservation strategist. His poems and flash fiction have been published in numerous print and online journals in New Zealand, Australia, Canada, United States of America, and India. He is managing editor of Fast Fibres Poetry, performs regularly, and reviews poetry publications for Landfall and Takahe.  pietnieuwland.simplesite.com


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1 Comment

  1. Darcy Scholts

    Very nice! I’m sitting in an office buried in paper and everything stopped long enough for me to savor these.


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