In Memoriam - by
‘No metaphors swarm
/
/ around that fact, around that strangest thing,
/ that being that was and now no longer is.’
/ Iain Crichton Smith
/ …
‘No metaphors swarm
/
/ around that fact, around that strangest thing,
/ that being that was and now no longer is.’
/ Iain Crichton Smith
/ …
I
/
/ Glasgow, late September and the city I spoke of
/ in another country …
I love you because you love Harris tweed,
/ How it’s several times slumped into bankruptcy,
/ Business plans hauled back from the dead,
/ Only…
Waking in the small hours the night
/ before you go into hospital, you press
/ the palm of my hand to your cheek
/ so…
This is where the drowned climb to land.
For a single night when a boat goes down
soaked footprints line its cracked path
as inside they stand open mouthed at a fire
Quam angusta innocentia est,
/ ad legem bonum esse.
/ Seneca
/
/ It wasn’t a fairground so much;
/ just an acre of clay on old man…
I would not marry into that house.
/ I couldn’t condemn
/ my unconceived children
/
/ to their strange bloodline:
/ oddly shaped ears, a mad uncle,…
The moon must be sick of being in poems –
/ always gripped by fingers of late honeysuckle,
/ always filtered in the…