Posted in Chutzpah


Affection, like ice grows around an object
or metamorphoses away
until no evidence it ever existed.
Thought never did –
think about the workload and tedium of
mustering 500 first year students
kids straight from school used to being told when,
where and how.
He did …
printed course outlines, organised tutorial groups,
oversaw terms tests and assignments and
delivered two blocks of lectures –
about 30% of academic load.

answered dozens of questions and was point of contact
always helpful, always cheerful, never sigh or scowl or
“ now I’ve really heard everything.”
At the last class of the year
he handed out feedback survey sheets,
telling us
“ write whatever you want,
but don’t bother writing Jennings is useless –
they already know that.”



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.