Update

Having a fantastic time writing poems in my local community. More details about that on Arty Jay.

I've been to primary schools, the shopping centre, an aged care hostel, choir practice, walking, and to Gordon Cafe, so far. Written 55 first drafts. Here's 2.

For Mona

The wind blows umbrellas
like skirts dancing outside.
The tables sit stolidly
offering baklava, fruit pie,
the coffees, black and white.

We come here for good food,
the colourful art on walls, but
mostly we come here for Mona
not the Lisa kind, but our
smiling server of sweets
our reward for being here.

Coming Out of Prison

It's a sticky situation
a spider's web, volunteering.
They do open up, discover
creativity, a passion for
making ceramic ashtrays,
places to stub butts, collect
ashes.

Some come to this new
country, only to seek
the familiar trap, the door
that clangs, the lock
they've lost the key for.

I can drive away.
They stick with me.
It's the web. Am I
free or not free?