Posted in Love


After 10 days silence
the letter is just confirmation
rubber stamp to disappointment.
“Thank you ..
the calibre of applicants
we wish you …”  Did they?

Found by chance –
not going to read, read situations vacant.
Yes! Exactly what choice would choose.
Intuition thought it had done it
a photo finish – nose in front.

Day 1-3 : Post contest relaxation.
Day 4 : Countdown.
Day 5 & 6 : Standby
Day 7 : Perhaps???
Day 8 : Damn.
Day 9 : Shit.
Day 10 : Fuck!!
Day 11 : If only

Disappointment takes to the road
by bike
despair fails to notice …..

He came to the counter slowly
wore green overalls
smelled of oil and competence
offered no greeting or platitude. Craftsmen’s eyes measured
tool worn hands palpate.
“I can do that now.”
He replaced the spokes,
straightened the rim,
looked at me for the first time – taking me in –
“that’s ……
“there’s no charge.”



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.