The Waipakihi
Access Road Fifteen they named it
This anonymous road to the Waipakihi
Where its brawling water becomes Tongariro.
A moment’s journey across a horizon
Anchored in haze-ridden Taupomoana
Distanced, but jewelled in my thoughts.
Ruapehu, sentinel, guides my track
Between summer-melt waters
Deep-rent in shear sided gullies
To the beech-clad foothills of Kaimanawa.
Tongariro, and young Ngaruahoe
Mark my passage with silent gaze.
The air is thick with solitude
In this suddenly unpeopled wilderness
Of tussock which barely nods.
Dipping down to the river
Where the forest swallows hillsides
And the water turns about itself
My switchback road clings to the cliffs
Unawed, inanimate.
Without leaving I have left the yoke
Of commerce and its groan along the Desert Road
It doesn’t enter here
Where Waipakihi turns about itself
And becomes Tongariro.
Related poetry:
- The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
- Admire their style I’m reading fellow poets’ blogs today, A sustaining source of entertainment; I admire their style without exciting comment Or resorting to an unkind eye, simple though It is to sigh about uneasy affirmation. I hope when they read me (if they ever do) They rest as easy on my lack of finished form, The hazy, […]...
- The Pike In the brown water, Thick and silver-sheened in the sunshine, Liquid and cool in the shade of the reeds, A pike dozed. Lost among the shadows of stems He lay unnoticed. Suddenly he flicked his tail, And a green-and-copper brightness Ran under the water. Out from under the reeds Came the olive-green light, And orange […]...
- There is a solitude of space There is a solitude of space A solitude of sea A solitude of death, but these Society shall be Compared with that profounder site That polar privacy A soul admitted to itself Finite infinity....
- Wilderness THERE is a wolf in me… fangs pointed for tearing gashes… a red tongue for raw meat… and the hot lapping of blood-I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go. There is a fox in me… a silver-gray fox… I sniff and guess… I […]...
- As the Time Draws Nigh 1 AS the time draws nigh, glooming, a cloud, A dread beyond, of I know not what, darkens me. I shall go forth, I shall traverse The States awhile-but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my voice will suddenly cease. 2 O book, O […]...
- Thick-Sprinkled Bunting THICK-SPRINKLED bunting! Flag of stars! Long yet your road, fateful flag!-long yet your road, and lined with bloody death! For the prize I see at issue, at last is the world! All its ships and shores I see, interwoven with your threads, greedy banner! -Dream’d again the flags of kings, highest born, to flaunt unrival’d? […]...
- The Road That Runs Beside The River follows the river as it bends Along the valley floor, Going the way it must. Where water goes, so goes the road, If there’s room (not in a ravine, Gorge), the river On your right or left. Left is better: when you’re driving, It’s over your elbow across The road. You see the current, which […]...
- A Green Stream I have sailed the River of Yellow Flowers, Borne by the channel of a green stream, Rounding ten thousand turns through the mountains On a journey of less than thirty miles…. Rapids hum over heaped rocks; But where light grows dim in the thick pines, The surface of an inlet sways with nut-horns And weeds […]...
- Well Water What a girl called “the dailiness of life” (Adding an errand to your errand. Saying, “Since you’re up. . .” Making you a means to A means to a means to) is well water Pumped from an old well at the bottom of the world. The pump you pump the water from is rusty And […]...
- Music Take me by the hand; It’s so easy for you, Angel, For you are the road Even while being immobile. You see, I’m scared no one Here will look for me again; I couldn’t make use of Whatever was given, So they abandoned me. At first the solitude Charmed me like a prelude, But so […]...
- Heron Rises From The Dark, Summer Pond So heavy Is the long-necked, long-bodied heron, Always it is a surprise When her smoke-colored wings Open And she turns From the thick water, From the black sticks Of the summer pond, And slowly Rises into the air And is gone. Then, not for the first or the last time, I take the deep breath […]...
- Loud Music My stepdaughter and I circle round and round. You see, I like the music loud, the speakers Throbbing, jam-packing the room with sound whether Bach or rock and roll, the volume cranked up so Each bass notes is like a hand smacking the gut. But my stepdaughter disagrees. She is four And likes the music […]...
- Little Exercise Think of the storm roaming the sky uneasily Like a dog looking for a place to sleep in, Listen to it growling. Think how they must look now, the mangrove keys Lying out there unresponsive to the lightning In dark, coarse-fibred families, Where occasionally a heron may undo his head, Shake up his feathers, make […]...
- The Rat Of Faith A blue jay poses on a stake Meant to support an apple tree Newly planted. A strong wind On this clear cold morning Barely ruffles his tail feathers. When he turns his attention Toward me, I face his eyes Without blinking. A week ago My wife called me to come see This same bird chase […]...
- September 1961 This is the year the old ones, The old great ones Leave us alone on the road. The road leads to the sea. We have the words in our pockets, Obscure directions. The old ones Have taken away the light of their presence, We see it moving away over a hill Off to one side. […]...
- Poem Of Night 1 I move my hand over Slopes, falls, lumps of sight, Lashes barely able to be touched, Lips that give way so easily It’s a shock to feel underneath them The bones smile. Muffled a little, barely cloaked, Zygoma, maxillary, turbinate. 2 I put my hand On the side of your face, You lean your […]...
- Traveling Through The Dark Traveling through the dark I found a deer Dead on the edge of the Wilson River road. It is usually best to roll them into the canyon: That road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead. By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car And stood by the heap, a doe, […]...
- Rain Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me Remembering again that I shall die And neither hear the rain nor give it thanks For washing me cleaner than I have been Since I was born into this solitude. Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon: […]...
- Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
- Death Death is a road our dearest friends have gone; Why with such leaders, fear to say, “Lead on?” Its gate repels, lest it too soon be tried, But turns in balm on the immortal side. Mothers have passed it: fathers, children; men Whose like we look not to behold again; Women that smiled away their […]...
- Sandpipers Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes. Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles-they write in the morning, it is gone at noon-they write at noon, it is gone at night. Pity the land, the sea, the ten mile flats, pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and […]...
- Roadways ONE road leads to London, One road leads to Wales, My road leads me seawards To the white dipping sails. One road leads to the river, And it goes singing slow; My road leads to shipping, Where the bronzed sailors go. Leads me, lures me, calls me To salt green tossing sea; A road without […]...
- Divine Epigrams: To our Lord, upon the Water Made Wine Thou water turn’st to wine, fair friend of life, Thy foe, to cross the sweet arts of thy reign, Distills from thence the tears of wrath and strife, And so turns wine to water back again....
- Of Tribulation, these are They Of Tribulation, these are They, Denoted by the White The Spangled Gowns, a lesser Rank Of Victors designate All these did conquer But the ones who overcame most times Wear nothing commoner than Snow No Ornament, but Palms Surrender is a sort unknown On this superior soil Defeat an outgrown Anguish Remembered, as the Mile […]...
- JOHANNA SEBUS [To the memory of an excellent and beautiful Girl of 17, belonging to the village of Brienen, who perished on The 13th of January, 1809, whilst giving help on the occasion of The breaking up of the ice on the Rhine, and the bursting of the Dam of Cleverham.] THE DAM BREAKS DOWN, THE ICE-PLAIN […]...
- Celestial Music I have a friend who still believes in heaven. Not a stupid person, yet with all she knows, she literally talks to God. She thinks someone listens in heaven. On earth she’s unusually competent. Brave too, able to face unpleasantness. We found a caterpillar dying in the dirt, greedy ants crawling over it. I’m always […]...
- Post-Vacation Tristesse The Jumbo Jet has barely shuddered off The ground, and I’m depressed. My scuba mask And fins, my fly rod and beach hat Crush each other in an overhead locker Dark as the bedroom closet they’re returning to. Already the week’s good times melt Together like caramels in a hot car. My vow to “Do […]...
- The Gardener XVIII: When Two Sisters When the two sisters go to fetch Water, they come to this spot and They smile. They must be aware of somebody Who stands behind the trees when- Ever they go to fetch water. The two sisters whisper to each Other when they pass this spot. They must have guessed the secret Of that somebody […]...
- Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
- Psalm 85 part 2 v.9ff L. M. Salvation by Christ. Salvation is for ever nigh The souls that fear and trust the Lord And grace descending from on high Fresh hopes of glory shall afford. Mercy and truth on earth are met, Since Christ the Lord came down from heav’n; By his obedience so complete, Justice is pleased, and […]...
- Travellers Whom We Met Another fork away ahead Exactly like the one behind And twists and turns to leave you dead As choices in your mind. We’ve travelled here before you know And had this conversation yet We learned a way to ask for more Than empty signposts that we met. Of travellers whom we met And journeys we […]...
- Blizzard Snow falls: Years of anger following Hours that float idly down- The blizzard Drifts its weight Deeper and deeper for three days Or sixty years, eh? Then The sun! a clutter of Yellow and blue flakes- Hairy looking trees stand out In long alleys Over a wild solitude. The man turns and there- His solitary […]...
- The Secret of the Machines We were taken from the ore-bed and the mine, We were melted in the furnace and the pit We were cast and wrought and hammered to design, We were cut and filed and tooled and gauged to fit. Some water, coal, and oil is all we ask, And a thousandth of an inch to give […]...
- The Bather Where the path to the lake twists out of sight, A puff of dust, the kind bare feet make running, Is what I saw in the dying light, Night swooping down everywhere else. A low branch heavy with leaves Swaying momentarily where the shade Lay thickest, some late bather Disrobing right there for a quick […]...
- Girl's Lament In the years when we were All children, this inclining To be alone so much was gentle; Others’ time passed fighting, And one had one’s faction, One’s near, one’s far-off place, A path, an animal, a picture. And I still imagined, that life Would always keep providing For one to dwell on things within, Am […]...
- The Wounded Breakfast A huge shoe mounts up from the horizon, Squealing and grinding forward on small wheels, Even as a man sitting to breakfast on his veranda Is suddenly engulfed in a great shadow, almost The size of the night. . . He looks up and sees a huge shoe Ponderously mounting out of the earth. Up […]...
- Item This, with a face Like a mashed blood orange That suddenly Would get eyes And look up and scream War! War! Clutching her Thick, ragged coat A piece of hat Broken shoes War! War! Stumbling for dread At the young men Who with their gun-butts Shove her Sprawling- A note At the foot of the […]...
- Anecdote Of The Jar I placed a jar in Tennessee, And round it was, upon a hill. It made the slovenly wilderness Surround that hill. The wilderness rose up to it, And sprawled around, no longer wild. The jar was round upon the ground And tall and of a port in air. It took dominion everywhere. The jar was […]...
- Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...