blackmail press 22
Donald Wright
New Zealand

I reside in Titahi Bay Porirua. Right now I am a full time father and a part time writer.

Desert Road
(for T.C)

These are just my white lines for you
it's not winter 'till
they close those gates

this side of the track
requires a soundtrack
wild horses
blown away
grey into grey

that becomes you
you become the highway

rock, bone
flesh, ash
gravel rash.


O' as if I give
a flying you know what
about what you got
you got soul
Biology may explain
why you don't have my ears
but you have my eyes
even when your
Where else but here?
You don't have my hair
but I have yours
it floors me
to sweep bits of you
One day
some mad scientist
could make a million
pale imitations
of gods own creation
from each strand.
I stand in shadows
morning and afternoon
under the moon
but now lets
eat lunch.


I turned my back
on sunset,
gazed at a pink volcano
Ruapehu is our Uluru

That night as we made
mediocre love,
there was the loudest thunder
brightest lightning.

As I staggered to perform
my morning ritual,
a scared strange horse
stared me down.