Posted in Before the Rain

Nobody Home.

As faded as Miami Vice
as long ago as Dire Straits
as far back as Ronald Reagan,
where computers were large
and application’s small.
When mental illness shared an address –
with alcoholism and homosexuality.  1, The Closet.

I knocked on her door
…“ about this morning
I’m sorry if I upset you.”
In a job still to come
“… wouldn’t know shit about shit,”
was catch cry response, to naiveté, gaucheness, stupidity.
I didn’t,
but I could read the frost on her face.


She thought I knew,
that other two had told me.
I didn’t. They hadn’t.
No word. No absolution. No Explanation.
I fled belligerent silence
finding out only by chance …..
and after I no longer worked there.

Nobody Home is a sequel to Out of Sight. Out of Mind, published March 13, 2017



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.