Salient. Victoria University of Wellington Students' Newspaper. Volume 31, Number 12 June 11, 1968
[Untitled work by Erice Fairbrother]
He lingered by the wrinkling waves, a fair skin blushed in sun slipping up from the sea. He stood, if time can stand, in animated reflection: and grass green hills sprinkled their dew into streams, fleeing.
A gentle warm body that breathed with the darkness where fingers whispering conceived their passion that rose and fell in shadows from the fire there burning. And musing in a mist of colours brown and warm and dreamed, I danced the first night's song and slept beside the stream.
Imagine him running, the sand flung madly at the sky like an insane jealousy, and a wide spare sun shining beyond him. Touching people in an existence found in other places; the white front door, hidden rooms, and twisted bodies in picture-frame windows.
Guess his useless passion!
How hot the sun grows and the sea slides slowly away somewhere over the horizon. "What day is thing?"
It means they put on shoes, and lift the lid of boxes climbing out and climbing in the lids of other boxes. Stopping never to dream, stopping to function, then running against the sun that having climbed too, now considers, now steals backwards to oblivion.
And the waves rippled strongly, reaching to touch his feet that were walking now, feet that dragged the sand into rocks like footmarks to remain forever. Until the rain.
Hot warm kisses and love lying dried, dried like salt. I look up to the window, but the sun has disappeared. People close gates behind them and run water in lighted windows. Standing in the blackness I am alone.
Somewhere a clock tolls and the waves unfold themselves faraway. And over the sand they come. And. his body resisting no more, waits white and bare for their touch.page 7