Posted in Passages


It happened 20 years before and
the man who told me, remembered
as an adjunct or preface
to the funeral senior staff were attending.
A fellow, 10 or 11 years retired,
before my time, but emeritus distinguished –
name still spoken with reverence
good at her job and a stickler, but
drank a lot he said,
then, cut the cards and showed the joker,
“ killed a guy one night – drunk driving ”

Realms and rulers
alcohol was king, queen and emperor then
misfortune as a result of, seen as ……. misfortune :
bad luck,
shit happens
especially this one apparently,
impairment’s trifecta – poor visibility and raining
crap timing – almost home.
No shame: no stigma,
“came back to work a couple of days later as if
nothing happened
turning to understanding and sympathy
imagine that today.”



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.