(Resemblance to any living or dead personor other is purely coincidental) When I was a kid, on the East Reservoir estate everyone called each other’s pets by the surname of the family. Kim ‘Meredith’ was a Labrador slobbering so much saliva pools were left at gates. His dad was a carpenter and known for voting … Continue reading Working Class Pacts

The huntsman’s as big as a dinner plate, on the wallwatching patiently for something to fill her.She’s gone when I boil the kettle, back behind heath paddockthe large McCubbin print from the bric a brac shop.I’m guessing that’s where she idles, a true originalday dreaming between the parched dock,all those works waiting to spring forth, … Continue reading The Shiver in Me

One day I think I mayput an old door and boardsthere on the back porch to hold out the westerly’svoice of God in rain and galebut it is cunning against thwart and breaks from the southfaster than nail and willhardier too in stone persistence bringing the top edge of wavessalt and lash and flip of … Continue reading Lessons by weather

1 This restless melancholiaunsoothed in the applicationof tubular tobacco rectum smokewanders from the crying wallsearching for the musicwhere Napoleon’s toothbrushstrums over Bentham’s skindancing in Florence Nightingale’s moccasinsto keep at bay fatal exhaustionunharnessed touching the amuletsto find the writhing Brailleof unspeaking human faces II Nicotine The masters saythe sheaves aren’t too heavybut you try lifting all … Continue reading Excerpts of Escape from a Victorian Asylum

our heartbeat slowed        to the voices of radio the dog, head angled ears tuned in watched, licked at sound there was dawdle in step morning cracked its egg books and toast gave over day we worked that paddock clean until evening called us in       to each page turner a remit dangling there left … Continue reading Year without television

Spy Story The Rossenoff is a heavy tool, more so now he is old. The hotel in Paris is no longer managed by the beautiful Algerians, offers a full breakfast, but the lift is still intimate, two people in it are crushed together. The Marais trendy and full of the young. He leaves the memory … Continue reading My flash fiction in Panoply

Mine is just dentistry, thus I can pray for my oldest friend I lack the faith of doorknobs or roadsthe steadfast purity in purposean exhibit of solid testimonybetween before during now and afterhow hands or rain or dust cannot shakethe utility of being so no minor inconvenience for directionno reason to look beyond or underbut … Continue reading My poem in the new Grieve Anthology August 2021

Cleaning the gutters, advent each handful carries its own risksfrom such fallow rustingwandering ashes meant for seakidnapped by an idling wind, the journey of leaves delayedin the stalled gravity of Autumnbeetle husks within dreamroof nails departing purpose, desiccated chicks abandonedconcerto de Aranjuezthrough an open windowforehead above to weatherboard, debris falling to obeisancesideways gusts push for … Continue reading A new poem in Burrow Bi Annual

No compass for wrack They say, in the north countryrain has lost its bearingsand wanders seeking a daughteror son to remember the touchof earth on cheek and knee.How bones, out of kilterkeep clear of steeping gulchand scry for penance in feldsparweigh each measure of lossto shy at every consequence.Deep south, the indifferent skycurls back a … Continue reading Two of my poems from the newly released Lothlorien Poetry Journal Volume 2

                                                 The ripped wire is back up uncurled recycled twice the effort for half the result(I hear the scent of you smiling in the fragrant drapery of the orange tree),but happy doing the right thingwitnessed by how much the disinfectant stings my hands All those cuts for a little comfort and of course pleasurein some resurrection … Continue reading The Fencer and the Sunset: Eight Bars for Broken Strings