Posted in Love


Six days beginning to end
five nights
and five mornings.
Four of 24
plus the last two of the first
and first 10 of the sixth…… One hundred and thirty two hours
132 hrs where memory only remembers breathing …. and.

I was impulsive in most things
why should this be different?
Emotion rushed forward, proclaimed wonderment
and proposed commitment.
She smiled
a smile Mona Lisa would classify cryptic.
Two palms placed themselves on my cheeks
chestnut eyes demanded attention.
“ Sssssssssh.
it’s just for now ….. enjoy it ”
– away is the traveller, away to home.



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.