Posted in Rituals


They were slick
Cirque du Soleil trained
a pixyish femme
and two men
juggling pins
five between two
the third coming from behind
and taking over – with no loss of precision –

Many other slick tricks
finishing with her escaping from a giant plastic ball
wriggling out of an aperture
and most of her clothes.
Thunderous applause
they were good – very good.
Cut to the MC
“ now I know what you’re thinking ”
pointing to the three
and then to her
“ is she doing it with him
or him
or maybe both.” It was exactly what we were thinking.




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.