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:
torture
Personal History: For My Son - by
for my son
/
/ O my heart is the unlucky heir of the ages
/ And my body is unwillingly the secret agent
/ Of my…
The Abdication of Mary Queen of Scots - by
Tak ma croon, an dinna fash – / aa yon wis ower fur me lang syne.
Daith o Saint Andrew - by
Haw, Andra, whaur’s yer God noo?
Naething lik bein stark deid, is there, pal?