Who devised you?

You look so cute

so placid

so trustworthy

warm wooden seat

on the toilet rim

but when I lift you up

to pee

you don’t stay up

like other toilet seats

but drop down


like something medieval

a guillotine

ouch !

Turning Purple

I am all alone

in my shorts and T

on the naked beach.

The sun goes in.

The temperature drops.

A cold breeze picks up.

I head off towards the distant jetty.

Even the gulls have deserted.

No kite boarders. No surfers.

Something is happening to my hands.

I look down

They are changing colour.

Turning purple.

The backs.

The palms.

I am both scared and fascinated.

I can’t take my eyes off them.

I look it up on Google later

when I get home

It has a name.

Peripheral Cyanosis.

  • have you ever experienced it or something similar?

A Hard Hat to Follow

You need a hard hat

a hard hat to go in

dismantling the enigma of existence

is a dangerous thing

the ceiling may collapse on you

the walls cave in

punishing your arrogance

the plumbing dislodge spewing

its putrescence over you.

You’ve messed with the masonry.

You need a hard hat

a hard hat to go in

to write poetry

*photo from Pinterest by Kristopher King

Put a Moat Around it

I have a mote in my left eye

not the metaphoric one that Jesus

spoke of

but an actual one of grit.

I have amoat in my head too

which is metaphoric.

It cuts me off from needy people

which is kinda funny

coz I’m needy too.

Some people are overly guarded.

Too many moats to cross.

Australia has a moat,

a helluva big one

called the Pacific Ocean

on one side

& the Indian on the other

the one that boat people crossed

to get to Australia.

One family from Vietnam

lived across the road from us

for years.

I wrote about the man, the grandfather

in my first book.

[I’ll post it tomorrow]

A moat as big as the ocean

is hazardous.

Not everyone made it back then.

The Earth is surrounded

by a moat too

the vast star-studded ocean

of space.

I could go on but this poem

is starting to drift.

so I’m going to put a moat around it

and close it off.

* photo by juvnsky-enton-maksimor on Unsplash


You went after that photo like it was prey, she said. You were a fox, a panther, ferocious, determined.

You make it sound heroic.

It was also stupid, she snapped. There was no place to stop. You could have been hit by a car, that blue sedan in the photo, for instance, that beeped you to get off the road,

There was no other way, I said.

You could have let it go.

Never, When you are seized, you have no choice. You go after it like Amy Winehouse goes after the chorus of ‘Valerie’ or Eric Clapton the elation chords of ‘Layla’. There is total surrender to the feeling.The pursuit is everything.

The photo isn’t even that good, she said.

I got what I wanted. The sign. I would have climbed a precipice to get it

Sometimes I don’t understand you, she said.

Come on, I said, grabbing her hand, as we hopped back in the car and continued our journey, that sign disappearing in the rear-view