Posted in Before the Rain

Over and Out.

The office dated from the 1940’s
refurbished in the 60’s at a guess
was so old it had a blackboard – blackboard?
Black/green structure written on with chalk – chalk?
Before whiteboards and markers and screens = blackboard plus chalk
in my office, always waiting – duster, calcium sticks of colour –
white, red, blue green, yellow
ready to go – never used, until ….
The last day,
some equipment needs to be returned to a sister facility
spokes and hub
I had been involved – minor – from the bench,
can I take it back? “Sure.”
Early afternoon – 30 minute drive
must to be checked – “wouldn’t you know it, Jim’s out – have a coffee,”
chat + chat …
Jim returns
chats…. And then some.
“Right, all good – sign here. You’re welcome. Any time.” Back, late, everybody’s gone
down the corridor for the second last time,
on the blackboard, written in chalk
Bryan wishes me well, and Good Luck.



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.