The Friday Poems: ‘Pissed by 11’ and ‘The man talking’, by Sam Hunt

New verse by Kaipara poet Sam Hunt.


Pissed by 11


Neither pop-inner

or house-guest,


I prefer an early-opener,

patrons pissed by 11:


the rest of the day

the blur it always is. . .


Some people say

“Come and stay”


or others, “I thought I’d

just pop in” . . .


I’m down at the Shamrock,

and it’s blurring.


This is what loneliness is,

this is how perfect it is:


no one at the door;

or opening their’s, insisting.



The man talking


The man talking at me

asked how I was?

I told him, stressed and depressed.


He never heard.

I think he thought I’d said

I was doing just fine.


Which in some sick way

made me feel a lot better.

I thanked him for not listening.


Sam Hunt, 2017

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