Posted in Passages


Being young and abroad
out of sight of neighbour’s eyes and judgement
and handrails of good sense
behavioural drift
even for those of high pedigree
and achievement.
Karen, young and attractive …. tall and distinctive –
made the most of her OE
got involved in some silly things
alcohol …. and its buddies.
Some, just bad timing …wrong place and wrong crowd
and others ….
While not a naughty girl
was considerably less than good ….
men and the rest …. sowing her wild oats
what’s good for the gander …. is good for the goose.

Another century, another island,
a property auction…
middle-class people making,
middle sized bids for middle status homes.
The tall distinctive woman told me I was mistaken
not a denial as no name was used, only
“……I think I know you.”
Thought better didn’t want to create discomfort, or lies
–    “ sorry, you must look like someone I once knew..”
For the rest of the auction she maintained back turned avoidance
and made no eye contact on leaving.



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.