No fellow-travellers - by
The stones face each other
in rows like booth-style
compartments in old trains.
death
Japanese Wind Telephone - by
When you asked me for a love poem
I told you about a glass booth
containing one black object:
a disconnected rotary phone
from Coronaworld - by
what a moment
it is to die
Love’s Last Suit
Love, forget me when I’m gone,When the tree is overthrown,Let its place be digg’d and sownO’er with grass ;—when that is grown,The very place shall be unknown,So court I oblivion.So I charge thee, by our love,Love, forget me when I’m gone. Love of him that lies in clayOnly maketh life forlorn—Clouding o’er the new-born dayWith […]
Fann-sholas - by
Chì mi thu – cluasan air ghleus ri guth sunndach, sùgach,
na ceumannan ath-shaothrachail a’ dèanamh air an dachaigh,
thu a’ tighinn rium-sa cho math ’s a dh’ iarainn
Cancer Villanelle - by
Needles plunge. Consultants come and go.
Today, leukocytes are easy to locate;
tomorrow, next year, they may sink below.
Bereavement Counselling from Murdoch of Blackbyres - by
Listen, back in ‘74
I shot a crow with such force
its body cannoned into its partner,
dropped the pair from the sky.
Icarus poem - by
Twin postcards
Margaret’s Moon - by
After she died, I swear the sky
/ Had the most beautiful of all sunsets,
/ A blush of pink, then red, a glass…
In Memoriam 1971 - by
Certain women. And some young boys.
/ Women with some uncertainties
/ but something they knew about
/ that made them need to say something.
/ Two of…
In Days of Darkness - by
Two days before your death, you wrote / There is not much to report from here.
Reelig - by
I do not know
/ Who sleeps here
/ Beneath this mound before me
/ Under the skies of Reelig
/ Below the Fraser pines
/
/ But a Laird…