In Gordon Street - by
for I could board tonight
to any of those unearthly destinations
whatever train I chose
Glasgow
People Made Glasgow - by
Shame in our hulls
/ why else would we drink to incoherence
/ jump on the heads of passing men
/ punch our women
/ tell our children…
In the Mid-Midwinter - by
the light comes back
the light always comes back
Outwith - by
Revising my visa essay,
applying for three more years
here, I read my own scribbled words
Aquafit - by
November Friday mornings when the weather’s
/ foul Glaswegian, see me out my bed
/ by half past nine, racing the traffic to…
I am the Esperance - by
I am the Esperance, I sail in your wake, / canvas unfurled, bellied with hope / as you pour into…
The Theatre Royal’s Gorgeous Transformation to the Hall of a Thousand Lights - by
As fast as Glasgow burned its theatres to the ground
/ it built them back again – we couldn’t do
/ without our…
Some Old Photographs - by
weather evocative as scent
/ the romance of dark stormclouds
/ in big skies over the low wide river
/ …
The Bargain - by
The river in January is fast and high.
/ You and I
/ are off to the Barrows.
/ Gathering police-horses twitch and fret
/ at the Tron…
Trio - by
Orphean sprig! Melting baby! Warm chihuahua!
The vale of tears is powerless before you.
Whether Christ is born, or is not born, you
put paid to fate, it abdicates
under the Christmas lights.
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?
/ -…
Glasgow Street - by
Out of this ugliness may come
/ some day, so beautiful a flower
/ that men…