storm

new zealand. i live here now. storm debris and death on a beach where just previously i had watched a sharks fin out in the surf. standing on the beach i traced it's progress, filled with a breed of dishevelled awe. too tired and pragmatic to be entirely excited at my first wild siting.

that evening i made tea with cardoman pods and considered the southern cross. around my ankles were the burning bites of ants, excited by the electricty in the sky. i read that in iraq people are appalled by wheelchair-bound suicide bombers. why complain at the gathering momentum of equal opportunities? do those folk restricted to wheelchairs need their own 'special conflicts' perhaps running in tandem, every four years with the 'special olympics'