HUNTLEY POWER STATION



Oddly Ozymandian
this fragment of industrial Luxor
abandoned by its Moloch
in riverine bucolic prospect. Why
or to what vestigial bloke
in me it sings to, I can’t say.
The Sant'Elia lines, perhaps?
The brazen confidence of the gesture
defying all the Waikato’s taniwha?

Fugitive from highway continuum
it looms up cyclopean, the twin
Freudian stogies extinguished accuse the sky
like a zombie Sandinista’s finger.

The last colonial cathedral.
The arrogance!
Omnia Vanitas!

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