Wha’s Doctor Wha? Wha better kens nor he that jouks the yetts and rides the birlin wheels o time and space, shape-shiftin as he reels through endless versions o reality? Bit dis he ken himsel? Weel, mibbe sae, yet wha’s tae ken gin aw that’s kent by Wha maks mair or less or better sense […]
A yellow dawn breaks on the airport of my childhood
Thick air of spices and warmth and tenderness
Enters my nose and brings out a wave of nostalgia
And here I am, the home of my soul
Don Meuang embraced me like a long lost lover
Something near to true
night-darkness. The children
are playing the Plinky-Boat –
a xylophone made
from a reclaimed yoal
Always
Solitary
Home
Excellent
Yet
Lonely
And I wish it
Never
Empty.
small oats rye bere barley
ripe harvest in late summer
a shallow ploughing
grazing and fallow in rotation
We all
/ Expect
/ Literature to
/ Look special…
A Critique of Dialectical Reason…
In the Central Café
/ in Innsbruck,
/ a girl in a dark-blue dress
/ unlooses her hair from its clasp
/ so it falls to her waist,…
I lost my shoes on Rachel St.
/ Head lolled back to rest
/ against a pillow of the Mont
/ kiss the foot of the…
Here’s freedom to him that wad read, / Here’s freedom to him that wad write! / There’s nane ever feared…
A! Fredome is a noble thing
/ Fredome mays man to haiff liking.
/ Fredome all solace to man giffis,
/ He levys at es that…
About ane bank, where birds on bewis
/ Ten thousand times their notis renewis
/ Ilk hour into the day,
/ The…
