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It is Sunday afternoon here and I have just come home for the beach. There was a surf life saving regatta on today, men, women and children of all ages competing in a triathlon.

Nothing to special about that – well apart from the fact that for the last month there has been a spate of shark sighting and attacks in the Illawarra. There were two attacks alone last week. Yet not one of these volunteers’ life savers hesitated for even a second to run into the water this morning sharks ...

Too tired.

This eye-flickering wakeness
draws me into empty
spaces phasing into sleep without action.
Dyslexia comes,
a fridge of magic magnets
shape new lines to newsline.

Does anyone else worry what will happen to all their stuff - mainly books, after they've...'gone'? It sounds slightly materialistic and I should be more worried about loved ones than possessions but it keeps bugging me. That I waste so much time, effort and money collecting so many different things and for what purpose?

I think I need to get some sleep. Things always look a little better in the morning. Usually because I can't find my glasses ....

Without ...

Dear John

My love
your absence pickles my heart
I lie there
on the shelf
waiting for you to throw stones
and smash my clear glass shell.

Your letter comes.
The pregnant sausage of my mind
sizzles in pain.
I squeak out my suffering
but you continue to fry.

Tongues of sharp-winged sadness take me.
Unkempt, unsandalled and unclean,
I wander whirlpools in the waiting dark,
following false beacons
that bold and bitter moonlight
burn before me.