Posted in Unexpected


Staff said they didn’t know what happened
to this about to graduate class
the least motivated any professor could recall
and tenure remembered 37 years.
Perhaps this explained the temperature
the lecture room 15°C
possibly an attempt to focus attention
to prevent apathy stumbling to sleep.

One morning
winter has turned chill to frigid
the class wit enters
fuck it’s cold…..I’ll have to go and have a wank to warm up ”
as laughter dies
from the back row
wisdom or experience
“never wank in the morning
you don’t know who you’ll meet in the afternoon.”



Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.

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