(1992, whilst washing cars at 10 am, the mind wanders over issues of the day)            I She lay crumpled in the gutter. Clothes torn, and limbs tied… trussed like a rolled roast. Her life blood, lying coagulated between her thighs, over the asphalt and...

(1987, Easter) The Blackness. The Blackness. Dark and dank, rank with murky, Musty dampness… this blackness. It lives here in this inkiness… watching.. waiting… ever patient, ever moving ––– Never changing! I have seen It’s realm… before. Its ways – unrelenting, twisting, bending… It looks for victims to crush...

(1987, at the typewriter. In response to a challenge issued by R. Jepsen of Bairnsdale.)  The first thing you see even before that firm and friendly shake are those hands; Large, slightly caloused, softened by machine-cooled air and the constant caress of a silver stick of plastic and ink;...

          (for Monica P. 1992)  What would I do if you loved me, What would I do? I’d climb the highest mountain for eagles eggs, That’s what I’d do! I’d swim treacherous waters for pink coloured coral, Just for you! ‘And I’d cross the Rainbow...

(1994. for Lavinia: a hardcore Vegan, and Lab. Tech. student, Yallorn Vic. Aust.) 1.  She crushes insects beneath her heal, to squeamish to catch them to remove them from her room. She sees them scurry and knows they’re alive but cannot face them in the Lab behind the glass...