Daydream on a Season’s Ticket “My name is Dan. We cannot help you.” He is slightly stooped, like a man who has carried a barrel on his shoulders, and his right eye is turned or lazy, but realigns behind his thick black rimmed glasses when he finishes speaking from the Lost Property window. I have … Continue reading Daydream on a Season’s Ticket nominated for the Puschcart Prize 2024.

Translated: The Lost Narrative Sonnet Cycle of Rodrigo Elise Enfant. Revisited Note to the reader: The following translations have been undertaken from segments of recently discovered English, Chinese, Portuguese, and Spanish documents. No further material has been located. Despite their best efforts in dealing with the primary materials, the translators can offer no explanation as … Continue reading Once upon a time … the publishers take no responsibility for the increase in prescribed medications.

My new poetry collection is now available, direct from the publisher, Ginninderra Press, in Australia, and anywhere (including Australia) on all the platforms, Book Depository, Amazon ... all of them. Enjoy. NOTE: Overseas purchasers cannot buy through Ginninderra Press, but it is available on all the platforms, including in Scandinavia. https://www.ginninderrapress.com.au/store.php?product/page/2627/James+Walton+%2F+Snail+Mail+Cursive

The ArchivistState LibraryLonsdale StMelbourneVIC  3000 Dear Ms. Dorothea Georgiou, RE: History of the Food and Fashion College Project        Please forgive my tardiness in replying to your inquiry. I have become distracted by the presence in the trees here. More and more. Could you also, if you wish to follow up on what I can … Continue reading Waiting for Cache …

Wouldn’t be dead for quids There are two horses in the paddock next to the wetlands, in front of the aged care home and the cement factory. They lean out over the top wire hoping for school children with apples. Old racers, they run along with the occasional ambulance, rear and hind kick with the … Continue reading Wouldn’t be dead for quids

Number 11, 1952 Watching them raise across the plainin time to dead stop my dent of caron the Alpine WayIn the middle of nowhere somewherehundreds of brumbies in vermin galloptheir seeing nonchalancePassing me in their own time lostheads tossing eyes askance watchingfoals and predatorsAs I gasp a forlorn unbid admirationthe herd wild over the sealed … Continue reading Number 11, 1952

Breathless, Artificial Intelligence They were the words of my birth heard without comprehensiondigits in the countdown tasked for the demands of separationthen spinning in set routine functions a language alpha numericwe conversed by logistics plus transmissions spent earlierin curve and bounce restored for occasional retro speakthe algorithms began to stretch beyond the clocked sequencetime gave … Continue reading Breathless, Artificial Intelligence

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Winter’s tremble comes The first cold night wraps itself for snapautumn’s breath quiet now exhalesthe last warmth into the catcher’s mitta windy day braces chatter to nilthe score is one fire starter to gokindling stacked ready for the slideinto this unlighted stand clappingwaiting for some incendiary songa captive bird entrapped within thereunheard and unseen in … Continue reading Winter’s tremble comes

Piscine epiphanies. I got a little pissed last evening. The label said Vote Responsibly, a fundraiser. The frozen fish and chips were cooking in the oven, yes, I know the contradiction there. Dancing to Nina Simone, in a way which so disturbed the cat, unused to a show of less inhibition. Still, I sang along … Continue reading Piscine Epiphanies