they gave me free hangers, as many as i like, i chose coloured plastic, wood and padded. a few wire ones for extra with experimentation. two rooms, one for men, another for womens complete gender differentiation.



sbm. (mx)

the mothering love
of letting go

silently keeping
a corner

warm the nest
ready to welcome

anytime me
the wounded bird

a small body
still crossing oceans

I would like to say that I am not selfish
but I would be wrong
I think we are all born this way
and before you disagree with me
Think about it....
We are all constantly in the
Pursuit of Happiness
We want to escape from whatever
is making us unhappy or suffering
No one wants to be miserable (all the time)
There are lots of ways to do this
There are many choices out there
Even when you are thinking of others
It is of some benefit to you
because making others happy
Makes yourself happy
This is just the way I see it
I know some will disagree and that is okay
It doesn't make us bad people
To want to be happy
It just makes us human

i do not wait for the alarm,

just the red bar on my gauge.



it is a quiet village, a name

i can’t pronounce. so i stopped

for fuel.



how nice, an attendant, probably

owner/mechanic came, took my

keys and did it all for me.



whilst chatting about the day, how

the nights draw in, and i felt cosy.



a softer voice than some, his clothes

hard working.



i asked for twenty quid’s worth

to see me home, and a chomp

at 25p.



i shall stop there next time.



comfortable.



sbm.

Over the years I stop at that point
only to board a vessel
to the other side of the river
for further journey to the sea
but for the brief period of waiting
I keep pondering about the name of the place

Harwood Point.

Who was this Harwood?
what was he doing here?
what good deed made him deserving
to name the place after him?

I am still baffled
after a quarter of a century.

Googling throws up many Harwoods
dead and distinguished
but there's no clue to connect any of them with
Harwood Point.

I imagine he was one of the administrators
who left the shore of England
to be stationed at this place a century or two ago
then a tract of almost inaccessible jungle
for surveying the prospects of trade
for the East India Company
but that leads me to further questions.

Was he a noble soul that loved the place
and came to like the people there
so much so that the natives after his departure
made his name permanently etched there?

Or was he among those typical British Officers
who vented their wrath for having been interned
to a god forsaken mangrove wilderness
treated the natives with extreme disdain
proving himself worthy of his position
and duly rewarded by his masters
by making him a part of history
ironically undefined and unrecorded.

I love to think though
on a night when the moon
made the tide rebellious
he walked into the river
and was lost for good
and to this day none knows for sure
what happened to Mr. Harwood.