Passages: a volume of poems/short, short stories about the shifts and changes in perception and understanding as a function of time. How the stages of life reconfigure interpretation to reveal what was, isn’t any more. Or what is, once wasn’t. Vignettes of the metamorphosis : when the years of living render inaccessible to comprehension.
He always smiled,
and nodded or waved –
not the languor of people passing
effort was involved,
as if he wanted to acknowledge me
and for me to know he had.
I asked if I knew him,
“ no.”
Still he continued – maybe mistaken identity
except there seemed no confusion.
A while later I asked again.
We were both at a supermarket front desk,
me for exchange
him, then a schoolboy, to collect employment application.
I wished him luck
he had not forgotten.
Graffiti?
Unauthorised – so it probably was
a mural on the side of the campus building
full-sized, predating Banksy by two decades –
a graduation stunt by a talented trio.
Before and after,
polenta coloured concrete block one afternoon …
vibrant hues of figure the next morning.
The authorities tolerant –
graduation is graduation
boys will be boys, and girls, girls –
a stay of execution, until after conferment.
Blank becomes vibrant
vibrant becomes blank
the curve bisects the asymptote,
a motor vehicle accident
and
death claims one of the artists.
A petition is presented
the mural remained … Still there 30 years later.
I went past before cognition ignited,
Yes, it was there, three decades ago
and four wheels this time.
“ Look out on a summer’s day ” sang Don McLean
I was :
concave of coastline: point, headland and lighthouse
blue, blue sky
travel poster perfect
two wheels, propelled by gravity – downhill.
Inattention – his or mine?
He said it was me
swerving out as he overtook,
so the post hospital policeman told me. I disagreed.
The officer said, “you were left unconscious –
recall cannot be relied on or be considered reliable.”
The insurance company concurred paying only the minimum –
goodwill they said.
Blamed and short-changed for years I was affronted
now, I agree with the policeman – I was lucky to be alive.
Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry 