maybe I was lucky

in not finding

the right bar

the right group

of friends

though to be sure

I spent the time

put those hours in


searching to find

but everywhere

seemed full of people

trying to find a platform

makeshift stage

to put on their act

try to impress

gain some following

win their unseen war

against invisible forces

which no doubt existed



I only wanted time

to think

work out the world


I was the problem

this succession of shack jobs

beautiful young women

who came into my life

for a year or two

then broke us up cursing me

my indigent wasted ways

I was the problem apparently

& I’d be still the same

as when they entered

tho’ now they at least

had somewhere to live

it was always me having to find

some new place to hunker

& they’d be sure to have

more stuff than when they came

I’d be off with a half car load

paperbacks notebooks music

to another place begin again

for another young woman

come along promising love

to later find me the problem


just fine

all I had to go on

were my eyes

as my ears

were letting me down

I heard all what people said

just fine

but could not see them

doing the things

they said they’d do

& you learn to realise

shutting up

is the wise thing to do

because when

you point out the words

they got going

are nothing but lies

is when they bring

hate & spite

into the game



sipping on the JD

tasting the Beam


late night

cut glass balloon glass in hand

cupping to warm the contents

half full of Funtador

I found myself


pronouncing if you will

on the merits

of a good Spanish brandy

my girl stared at me

what gives?

& I knew in an instant

the booze

had done its job

I was indeed


on words

on life


the art in all of this

we would pull people

take them

out of their everyday

charm them

love them

& once we had

what we wanted


gently return them

back to their stream

the art in all of this

was to return them




how they had been


milked of whatever

they had

we needed

anything else

would be uncouth

reveal us

to be the beasts

we were

the admiral’s daughter

I love the one offs

the strange who come

& go in my life

the admiral’s daughter

whose dad lived in a hidden house

you could walk right by it

never see it there

I would listen to her stories

as we sat in Rosies wine bar

drinking decent affordable reds

glass of Badoit water to the side

she had travelled to Paris in the 70’s

to see the world gained her education

at the Sorbonne for free the policy then

anybody could sit in attend any lecture

finding discarding lovers at whim

learning the language of the street

to augment her taught to grade pronunciation

& I could listen to her for hours

learning the wisdom of the rich

enlightenment of an activist

from the streets between the sheets

& all of it funny as all hell let loose


a pull to the wild side

world of greasers bikers punks loners

dopers smokers drinkers wet brains

gamblers addicts peepers creepers

hot rods customs fast machines

speed thrills spills highs lows

finding enlightenment bottom of the barrel

seeing clear the night sky reason for stars

free sex strange sex any sex try it sex

the porn soft hard indifferent

countryside mountains fast oceans

drifting into town trouble relationships

sliding out of all of those doing them again

the writers out on the edge slinging truths

the rare journalist hitting the mark

tell it is like it is

understanding it is what it is

& why all of this matters

to you

bread & butter

I must send them a note

my bread & butter

I said

& she fell about laughing

your what?

my bread & butter

a note to say

thank you for inviting me

had a great time etc

y’know the kind of thing

you sent to Aunts Uncles rely’s

to say thank you for the birthday

Christmas gift

& you did that? she asked

yes it’s what you do

to say thank you

oils the machinery

of family & friends

keeps the love going

we never did that

any of it she sighed

maybe that’s why

we never stayed in touch much

ok then

hows’about you write one for this?

but she never did

to carry all the meat


just the one piece of paper

I’d like to have

on old friends acquaintances

people I used to know

enemies frenemies

one side of A4

outlining their messy divorce

drug addled kids wives

brothers sisters lovers

the loss of their job

their living in squalor

sleeping in a van down by the river…

you know the kind of thing

any court cases due

prison time spent

embarrassing diseases


one side of A4

because I don’t want

to meet them talk in the street

stalk them call them

just one side of A4

to carry all the meat