ochre: maire, parama

Breathe this here, now, 

in. Breathe this paperbark-thin zephyr, skimming 

the tops of waves, soft as a flute. 

Breathe this here. Watch

the red-tailed black cockatoo

following his primordial nose westward,

toward the setting sun which unfurls in

the nests of eucalypt trees, red

like Miku. 

Breathe this now. On days like these

sunsets light our lives on fire,

the half-moon cradled between

mountain top roads and all the metropolitans 

built atop because they couldn’t be beaten 

into the shores, bulging out like giants’ limbs.

Breathe this and breathe it out. Look

at the tail end of his black and red feathers, dashed 

across the sky to places sacred and unknown. Act

now. Stand in the surf of progress. Feel 

the dark flame flowing past, like a river of infinite vitality.