Posted in Rituals


Conscience, thought to belong to wrongdoing
atonement for sins
making good, for being bad.

He had been a member of the beautiful people
a respected member of law enforcement
put away criminals – for years.
Retired early
A busy cafe
conspicuous arrival
faux classic motorbike and real leathers
fashionable dishevelment
looking all James Dean anti establishment
making bad, for being good.
There was something forlorn about it.



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.