Posted in Death


The sale did not capture attention
until the Public Notice
…. Ltd sought to notify – a change in land designation.

A petition and meeting
impassioned returnees spoke of migration
to sand
to tide
to high sun
to the same place and same temporary family.
Returning year pursued by year
to tent cities
to skiing on water
to insect repellent tainted sandwiches
to those vacation sounds
transistor cricket, swing ball thud, children shrilling umpire bias
to never cold enough beer
and always too few days.

The company said they understood
it was a beautiful part of the country.
They suggested the petitioners purchase
one of the finished ocean view homes
a million dollars cheap for prime coastal real estate.



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.