new zealand electronic poetry centre


Bob Orr

online works

My Fatherís Bomber Jacket

My fatherís bomber
jacket still hangs on
a peg beside a squadron photo.
Once I tried it on
but found that it was
far too small.
After all
when he wore it
he was not much more
than a boy Ė
in his tin machine
with his instruments
& weapons
alone &
far from
way out above the Pacific
as the waves beneath
moved like cards
being shuffled.

© Bob Orr

Last updated 11 May 2001