So mistaken
she looks frightened, wan
a blank face, and dull
no understanding (like a peasant)
no response (a smacked-out hooker)
one
person emptied bleak
alone and
nothing in the world can make this right
Patagonia
iceflint fear
Life, more or less – more often
less – a desolate chill
remote
this is nowhere
she knows
she’s nothing, lichen on a rock
but if
still saying nothing
she just sits
and smiles the next time
life will go on
still clinging
much as before
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Currently works at a public art gallery and a performing arts complex.
Worked in the Australian rock music industry as a journalist and published widely as a poet before moving to London and spending the better part of a decade in advertising agencies. Returned to Australia and briefly tried teaching, primarily teaching English to non-English speaking, newly-arrived refugees but also as a high school classroom teacher. Has travelled Western Europe, North Africa, Russia, Northern India, East Asia, coastal USA, some Pacific Islands, and Australia.
