Alone at the mercy of a dumb phone,
malware crazily spinning through menus,
landline and broadband down, cut off from friends,
children returned to mother for the week,
you gone for good (eight months), no calling halt
to the brave new world of down to the bone,
this work-week thin and new year looking bleak,
but down the road, mild out to buy bitter.
My favourite clients gave me a single malt
again, twelve year old spirit fire-water;
and let's see if the malware will leave be
while I type up this, my bad joinery.
Then let me have some early Christmas cheer,
and water down this whiskey with strong beer.
...
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Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...
