in my industrial days
i was aware that
something almost spiritual occurred
when striking an engineer’s hammer
against steel,
rearranging its shape
for a productive outcome

from afar i see,
in too many contexts,
we now bang our heads

First published in “New Poets 19” by FSP, 2018

seasonally
they return to the south
our Australian Parrots
to fly above us
on intermittent show
celebrate September springtime
with feasts of fresh pine nuts
in Conifer treetops
take water
from recent winter rains
then preen
mate
and nest
then with familial dawn song
remind us of incumbency
evolutionary longevity
and ownership
before flight beckons

as if to brag

First published at ‘Plum Tree Tavern’
February 2020
https://theplumtreetavern.blogspot.com/2020/02/kingdom.html

i find it unsettlingly poignant
that amongst the most disadvantaged
the crew/the mob/the socio-economically deprived
one could deliver unto a fellow;

“she’ll be right mate!”

First published in “New Poets 19” by FSP, 2018

said nothing
already over committed
to us
dripped
exclusively
in essential refinement
over dinner
and leering glances
bottled
as an exotic perfume
glassed as if crystal
but quiet as silk
didn’t need to say a word

that entire night

Published by Pomme Journal in
“Put Into Words, My Love” 2020
https://pommejournal.com/store

As vintage approaches

do you, after that first sip,
drift to foreign parts
late summer
blue skies
endearing heat of the season’s sun
an air of business
bronzed and protected
gathering the rich harvest
teamwork in extended days
before the vigneron declares
superior product

or do you, like me,
as an irregular consumer
accept that mediocrity
is singularly, your best return

First published in “New Poets 19” by FSP, 2018

There’s nothing here
That wasn’t here
A thousand years ago …
Except a seed
That was a tree
Though time has seen
It come and go
And flowers there
On which our eyes
Can feast for just awhile.
But we could walk for time at length
And still have covered
Nothing more
Than just a mile
In this great land,
Where another race
Of people stand,
And still marvel at it all.

First published in “Barking Dogs”, from
The Writers For Radio Project, Alice Springs 1995