Wrong Number

a beer stained
I dial

your call
can not be
as dialed

I hang up
at the
a sort of
for shells
not yet


15 Responses to Wrong Number

  1. Cassandra says:

    Love this: “pre-recording for shells not yet collected.”

  2. johemmant says:

    Love the ending of this, what a wonderful thought.

  3. lissa says:

    me too. wonderful last stanza.

  4. cruxandflux says:

    waves breaking like a heart breaking.. love uncollected like shells laying willy nilly on the beach? lol

  5. most excellent, Scot … I like the Bukowski bits as well. Good stuff o’er here this week.

  6. Scot says:

    thanks for commenting

  7. Scot says:

    thanks Rodger!

  8. Scot says:


    thanks to you both!

  9. kimtblogger says:

    Agree with Cassandra… except I can now see a crab coming out and biting Homer Simpson on the ear!

  10. Scot says:

    Thank you–

  11. Robert says:

    G’day Scot,
    This is a wonderful construction containing fascinating juxtapositions.
    You start with a beer stained matchbook and finish with the pristine cleanliness of ocean washed shells.
    You compare a useless telephone that will not allow you to speak with seashells that allow you only to listen to static.
    You transpose the adult life of the telephone the the childish delight in listening to the magic sounds of the ocean locked in seashells.
    The concept of breaking waves imbuing shells with a pre-recorded sound is wonderful.

    Those are wonderful tricks but they would remain merely clever had you not suffused your piece with a longing that is almost palpable and in achieving this you have created art.

    That’s not a bad trick. You have created art from an image of a used matchbook and the imagination of an anonymous beach everywhere.

    You have made my morning.


  12. Scot says:

    thanks for the comments–leave your blog site next visit.

  13. Robert says:

    You have inspired me to start a blog.
    When I am up and running I would love to leave a link here.
    I suspect that you attract the type of audience I seek.

    I enjoy your minimalism and rhythm with some of your pieces being like an extended haiku


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