Archive | May 2014

five wee poems


plastic footwear

in 1973, I lost

a red wellie

on a beach


on Orkney.


I lost a $20 note

and I thought about

that wellie

and the way my dad

sat slumped on a sand dune

like a man

who knows himself

too well



there’s something

I’ve been wanting to tell you,

my head hurts

in the morning

when you open the curtains

and pee with the door open,

that’s when I stop dreaming

about trains roaring through dusty stations

and wake up with somebody

who’s not you


packed lunch

I was lying

on the lawn

when you

crossed my mind.

you had on that jacket I like

and you told me

to get in the shade


I got sunburnt


thongs of praise

on the grass

in april

they’re blue, old

been around the world twice






ugly dead thing

when I fell over

this morning

out on the drive way

I saw a dead rat

under the car,

it was on its back

awful feet clenched

eyes slightly decomposed.

I lay there

until my friend came out

and asked me if I was ok.

‘yes’ I replied, ‘I’m ok’

‘that’s good’ he said, ‘sometimes

I worry about you’,

‘thank you’, I whispered

and got up