like envoys of the sky,
their letters suffused with earth and heaven
lone ranger hailstones too ill to be healed
knifing half-melted through windscreens, half-cracked -
is it the master's malady?
Why does your mother the sky cry foul? Bestriding a glacier the size of Geelong
is a stream which turns curly hair straight
and straight hair white; on into a mountain cascade it runs,
but algae has formed there - fur on great granite boulders green;
weeds budding where once the ice sheet froze
even the core of the world - life in slosh-puddles,
new primordial ooze for billions of amoebae to sluice through,
symphonic stutters;
clouds jimmied open with coathangers
seabirds held to exorbitant ransom.
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