kiwi as bro

this umbilical line
holding me
to the land
does excite
in me a child to mother
darkness creeps in baches
abandoned an empty shudder
we all here like flax are guideless
we all have a separate myth to guide us
so we can understand the flightless
the existential crisis we all do feel abide
with us.
when the cord is cut I hope to understand it all
the writers who grown old and with arthritis
cant hold there pen
but youth can find it
and leave a scarwl
to undefine it
we all are buried
on a bush road
in a landfall