Greatest Hits is now finished. Antarctica resumes on Weds January 27 and has four or five more posts. Then a new volume. Death. Death the point at which the frequent contradiction of theory and observation converge to absolute absence. A membrane through which loss passes to non-existence, the space occupied by a person, entity, emotion, ideal or hope that is gone, and gone forever. A collection of (un) poems reflections of an audience of one. A person holding and slowly turning an urn of ashes, thinking about what is, what was, what might have been and the slow formed acceptance of cutting the cards and drawing the joker.
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. View All Posts