Posted in Love

Not for Sale

Grandma and Grandpop of never spoke about the Depression –
the Great Depression of textbooks,
they called it “ the Slump.”
What was it like?
I was then 19 –
had studied economics,
was curious to learn fiction and fact … from the matter of fact.

Best not to know,
Lord have mercy it never happens again –
but on second thoughts,
19 is beyond childhood, old enough to vote, or go to war.

Grandma said a man came to the house
selling, but no salesman
a silver tea set : family heirloom.
It was beautiful – the price almost nothing,
but still too much.
The man turned away … and then back
afternoon was leaving, soon it would be night
the price was now whatever my grandfather had in his pocket
– a few shillings
he handed them to the man, and shook his head.



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.