11:00: Baldovan - by
Base Camp. Horizontal sleet. Two small boys
have raised the steel flag of the 20 terminus:
me and Ross Mudie are going up the Hilltown
for the first time ever on our own.
buses
Breenge - by
This morning, as the 372 shoogled
/ through Carsethorn, hirpled
/ wabbit past the kirk and through
/ dreich smirr hoyed down from
/ droukit braes above,…
The Forfar Bus - by
On the Forfar ‘bus in a morn of spring,
/ A nipping wind and the frost’s sharp sting;
/ And I can’t tell why,…
Last Bus Ride in July – a Mother Speaks (Genocide – Srebrenica, July, 1995; Karadzic captured – Belgrade, July, 2008) - by
Summer grass is shoulder high once more, / higher than my sons will ever be.
‘In a dream’ - by
In a dream / I saw a ticket booth / at a bus stop where / birds’ feathers were sold…
Good Friday - by
Three o’clock. The bus lurches
/ round into the sun. ‘D’s this go –‘
/ he flops beside me – ‘right along Bath Street?
/ -…
Embra buses - by
I like tae sit at the front of the bus
/ and keek through the hole
/ at the driver’s heid.
/ As he pulls on…
La banlieue… - by
La banlieue, c’est pareil. L’espace, l’espace tue.
/
/ On est debout à l’arrêt du bus. On attend le car. Autour
/ il y a…