Posted in Before the Rain


Before global warming
Summers didn’t disappoint
never confounded meteorologists
no one pondered,“ what’s happened to summer this year?”

skies infinitely wide and denim blue
bikinis and bathing
beer and barbecues
climate extended unlimited credit to enjoyment.

Still some were more glorious – this was one.
A summer of unblinking butter light
warm insect buzzed nights
a summer made for camping.
Biking quiet roads
in shy countryside
tent and gas stove in the shadow of trees
or sleeping in the carcass of a farmhouse
skinny dipping in moonlit bays.
Symphony of forest and waves
weekend wonderland – after work – Friday to Sunday evening.

Three weeks past Christmas time restart
a public holiday to honour the province’s birth
I add Friday to Monday
and cycle to the point of New Zealand closest to Australia.

Tuesday morning
to work
the first day of February
past a school
first day of term
first day for a group of five-year-olds
this was me
minus four years of university
minus five years of high school
minus eight years of pre-high school.

I have my reward.I am on my way to it now.
At morning break
the boss said
“I need to talk to you”
he is holding a telex
“probably nothing to worry about, just some cock up at head office



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.