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:
innocence
All my words - by
I imitated pitch perfectly, declined with
authority and wondered why people only
stared.
no angel - by
(After Judge Ian Starforth Hill described a nine year old rape victim
/ as “not exactly an angel herself” and gave…
Last dip of the year - by
Her body was as shy as berries when she stepped
/ as neatly as a hind out of the bush
/ she had unrobed…
The Volunteer - by
I took my heart from the fire of love,
/ Molten and warm not yet shaped clear,
/ And tempered…
Spring - by
Nothing is so beautiful as Spring –
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing.
Nuair a bha sinn òg - by
Nuair a bha sinn òg bhiodh uisge ann,
/ is sinn a’ bualadh chlachan air na pòlaichean
/ telegraf gun stad.
/
/ Bhiodh aon each ’na…