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 them that wad read,
Here’s freedom to them that wad write!
There’s nane ever fear’d that the truth should be heard,
But they whom the truth would indite.
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…
