At Eighty - by
Push the boat out, compañeros,
push the boat out, whatever the sea.
Who says we cannot guide ourselves
through the boiling reefs, black as they are,
the enemy of us all makes sure of it!
metaphor
The Guest House - by
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Image - by
Stepped on in the dark,
/ the cockroach was crushed
/ to pulp. All night,
/ an army of ants have
/ scoured its flesh,
/ leaving the carcass behind…
Spinning plates - by
My mother was mad as mercury,
/ mad as a silken Disraeli stovepipe hat
/ hiding a gypsum-white rabbit.
/
/ She once told me – the…
The Peasant Declares His Love - by
High-yellow of my heart, with breasts like tangerines,
/ you taste better to me than eggplant stuffed with crab,
/ you are the tripe…
The Sunlit Surfaces - by
Ein Bild des Glaubens ist das schöne Weib:
/ Sie ist ein ja, und sie ist grenzenlos.
/ …
It’s a Mineral, the Mind - by
Velvet the Himalayan poinsettia in bloom,
/ silver the scabbard of thrusting power,
/ the mind is a clear scent,
/ the pen is a new…
Raindrum - by
The roofs sizzle at the waking touch,
/ talkative like kettledrums
/ tightened by the iron fingers of drought
/
/ Streets break into liquid dance
/ gathering legs…
The Heart of the House - by
Blackened
/ through lack of care
/ like an old grate
/ raked from the fire,
/ its two wings collar
/ the trapped air
/ and fuse at their lower tips
/ as…
An Sgrìobhaiche Gàidhlig - by
Mar chleasaiche-sorcais ann an cartùn-TV,
/ a’ dàibhigeadh le snasmhorachd ghlan
/ bho chòmhnard bheag 60 troigh a dh’ àirde
/ a-steach dha ghlainne làn bùirn.
/
/ Ri…