Tag Archives: Smoko

too much early

I hand a pre-dawn pocket of coins over

her industrial estate face-for-the-boys

she’ll sell fifty of these paper wrapped breakfasts before 7

thinly sliced pig, fried chicken fetus on
finely-milled bleached wheat
yeast-mixed, overnight baked
and sliced
and soggy pan toasted
and sauced

and I wash it through me with
roasted-bean infused water

and feel human again


Month of Poetry – Smoko

I have been participating in writing a poem a day for the month of January and so far have only missed yesterday due to a heavy schedule of work.  Here is one of the poems from last week.



$1.50 and no line at the vending
machine.  He holds $3.20 and a funny
line to try on the denim skirt
who drives the smoko van.

From out of the lunch room
in the warehouse, “Who punched
my bus-kits?”
“Just hair brew!”

Under a shade cloth
a weld of cheese is squeezed,
drips from stained hands
on to overalls
that used to be navy blue.

Silver hair unfolds
a white salad
sandwich, bows
his head, the same
smile he wears every day
for the last thirty years.