Posted in Death


His brother in law like to josh him
not about being a priest
or even belief in God
more about the range of alternatives
the other banks into which to deposit faith.
Sun worshipper
Water diviner.
Yoga master

There was no malice, friendship longstanding
predating ordination
before Holy Orders there had been last orders
still were, only one couldn’t buy many rounds.
Poverty, chastity and obedience
sister and husband couldn’t do much about the last two
but did take him places
footing the bill
going as a family
children, father, mother and Father
once to an annual carnival.

The two saw the tent simultaneously.
Madame Claire.
decoder of stars
forecaster of the future.
The priest declined
then without ever knowing why or how
inverted the challenge
his companion loss of faced into a reading.

Long fingers of bone wrap around an offered palm
a shudder and prediction – precise and brutal.
death by automobile on a prescribed day.
Frivolity shrank
both emerge shaken and silent
neither mention it again.

On the forecast date
succumbing to should know better ill ease
the brother-in-law stayed at home.
Inside. All day.
In the early evening a motor vehicle accident
one fatality – time and place intersected exactly with his life.



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.