There is a Strong Wind advisory in force for the Gulf from the Head to the Cape apparently. The situation is what Meteorologists call a Complex Liberal Low with a series of Embedded Nationalist Fronts. Computer Modelling and Historians suggest that these Fronts will move over the State from the West, moving towards the East sometime shortly after an inevitable Black Monday. Another Complex Low will probably approach the State from the Sea late Wednesday.

Innovation in toasters Has slowed right down. Efforts to develop The perfect brown Have shifted apparently To more important things Like dating apps or drones’ wings. And those of us Who adore toast, Who think that it Is just the most Beautiful food Ever invented Such simple fare but when…

Explode into the gap you cavalry of codeine!!! Establish a base for rest and recoup. The paratroopers of paracetamol have paved the way, and Diclofenac was pitched at 0 1200 to soften the defenses, but bursitis burns like napalm upon this shoulder’s battleground of tendon, cartilage, and bone. I could wheel out the big gun — cortisone! Pain trembles at the sound, but administration requires authorisation from one with letters after his name for that bad boy.

“My heart holds many secrets Some far away, some near.” A crack appeared in a wall around a square that is far away from this island. The wind stopped. A fish broke the surface of Omiha Bay. The innocence of the puriri tree was suspended momentarily. (August, 2012)

I. She said, “I think you have a lot of wairua.” At the staff table the women talk about wairua. Words unspoken one says. Broken apart in te reo it meant two waters. Two streams or rivers. Like Alph — the sacred river of Kubla and Coleridge and the kids in my…

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If there is a god, He is at the beach. That is where the message Has the greatest reach. Where the rhythm of waves Beats at his feet. If there is a god, He is at the beach. A wide open space Where he can teach Ornithology, As red-billed gulls screech. If there is a god, He is at the beach. Far be it for me To be the one to preach, but the signs are all there And I beseech. That if there is a god, He is at the beach.

To his grandson he was ‘Sir Up and Under’. His calf muscles were sinewed like the seams of hand stitched leather rugby balls. He was still strong, but slightly bent now, and from his shoulders – touched by accoladed scrum coaches & the Queen’s sword – he slowly lifted the boy down, and walked the beach… where I watched. What had I done, compared to the coach of te Kapa o Pango, who walked along the beach popping seaweed under feet that had touched the hallowed grass of Eden Park!?

Pictures of Innocence Pictures of pure innocence exist in pockets. Try pulling one out, hold it up against a rocket, or a drone, a pre-emptive strike, a terrorist attack, or a violent protest. I seem to have lived my whole life with these things disturbing the background, bothering my peripheral. (Pictures of pure innocence) Today the boys bombed Oneroa Bay off the rocks. Leaping into the endless attack of wave after wave.