Posted in Passages


Stevie Nicks sultry rock soprano
sang of performers only caring for the audience when performing.
He had been a performer of sorts
a sportsman at national and international level –
a good performer
won medals, adulation, renown, –
recognition – admiration from men and from women ….

Time minds its own business
no clamour or greed
present –
an interval, and act from play on stage then gone
a performance.

In the sauna of a swimming complex the former sportsman
strikes poses
watching the two young women eagerly – greedily.
The performance is two decades too dated
the audience too young,
unaware of identity and once fame.



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.