The Spell of the Yukon - by
I wanted the gold, and I sought it,
/ I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.
/ Was it famine…
I wanted the gold, and I sought it,
/ I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.
/ Was it famine…
The blood / of the fish / becoming / the blood / of the bear.
Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come,
For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom,
And the crow is on the oak a-building of her nest,
And love is burning diamonds in my true lover’s breast.
‘Necessity is not the mother of invention; play is.’
/ Ian D. Suttie
/
/ It gets late early out here
/ in the lacklustre places,
/ wind in…
Scotland small? Our multiform, our infinite Scotland small?
/ Only as a patch of hillside may be a cliché corner
/ To a fool…
Shelter in the hoodoos and pluck / your fur – fine smell caught on the heather / and shining reeds…
when a breeze blows / through grasses or branches / light touches the harp…
So hushed, so hot, the broad Zambesi lies
/ Above the Falls, and on her weedy isles
/ Swing antic monkeys swarm malignant…
My art is my performance. / My performance is endurance.
Like trains of cars on tracks of plush / I hear the level bee…
Like trains of cars on tracks of plush / I hear the level bee…
I found a ball of grass among the hay / And progged it as I passed and went away; /And…
The Scottish Poetry Library is staffed weekdays from 10am – 2pm and is providing a limited service including postal loans and Click & Collect. For details, click COVID-19 in the menu bar above. Dismiss