Flying Bats - by
I was invited here
I am sure I was
to read my poetry
That’s what the email said.
Language: English
Walk - by
When is a wood not a wood. She points out the cold
pillboxes left behind by WW2.
How to burn a woman - by
You will not need kindling.
I think I’ll go up quick
as summer timber, my anger
big and dry as a plantation
that dreams of being paper:
What to wear to a wedding when you hate the bride and groom and other passive aggressive acts - by
Awful, just terrible, isn’t it dreadful, the feeling I get when I think about
you.
Historic Reoccurence - by
mirror images, mirror people how can I escape them,
my own reflection in the water of time?
the cyclops who survives on unspoken thoughts?
the long bench - by
For the times aheadwhen we will be as if at either endof the long bench where distance keptis love’s measure and death dancesthe space between when words aloneare not enough and queued memories reach out to touch let longing be a storeof nut and seed that grows each day in strange hibernation readying for its […]
Gàirnealachd - by
Air a ghlùinean sa ghàrradh
a’ cruinneachadh ùir
mar ùrnaigh na làmhan,
All my words - by
I imitated pitch perfectly, declined with
authority and wondered why people only
stared.
BJ 581 in Birka - by
Was she then a lover,
a wife, a sister, cousin, aunt?
Was she laid there in jest,
as a punishment, as an example?
The Shepherdess - by
The staves steady under foot; she knows which to
avoid. A creature of habit, the kettle warms.
Glasgow Coma Scale - by
First on scene, emergency services
score you six and leave without me.
I tail the silence of blue lights,
abandon the car in the ambulance bay.
The Grass Boat - by
We’ve been playing unobserved
in the old brickyard, a place abandoned
to its toy-town railway, rusty iron tubs.