Letters to Glasgow - by
Heading north is a leap of the heart.
On the map on the phone, the blue dot
is a pulse that crosses the border.
Mood: Homesickness
Hölderlin’s shopping bag - by
Poetry object
Ashey Lane - by
Always
Solitary
Home
Excellent
Yet
Lonely
And I wish it
Never
Empty.
Killochyett - by
Killochyett! … Killochyett! …
/ The dusk is drappin’ doon;
/ The waefu’ wind is whimp’rin’ in the trees;
/ The lichts begin tae blink aboot…
I have lost my bearings - by
It is time to go north. I want / to listen to silence and unpick its voices: / the wind…
Dream Cities - by
I
/
/ Glasgow, late September and the city I spoke of
/ in another country …
Homespun - by
I met a man in Harris Tweed
/ As I walked down the Strand;
/ I turned and followed like a dog
/ The breath of…
I Love the Sun-Baked Taste of Armenian Words - by
I love the sun-baked taste of Armenian words,
/ their lament like ancient lutes, the bend
/ of blood-red flowering roses in the…
from Malli i Shqiperise - by
Te shkoj dua mbremjes ne rruget e Tiranes,
/ Ku kam bere dikur ndonje marrezi,
/ Dhe ne rruget ku skam bere asnje marrezi.
/ Me…
Building Vocabulary - by
Cianalas:
/ Who would have thought
/ I’d have to come
/ so far from home
/ to find a word that perfectly captures
/ the…
Like - by
The fog that is like but more rare
/ The wind that is like but not…
January, 5 - by
Off Lindisfarne
/ the waves shiver like monks
/ at their ablutions.
/
/ Under high horizontals
/ of ice-cloud, the sky
/ scrubbed clean as a dairy.
/
/ The train darts north,
/ hungry…