L’Appel Du Vide (The Call of the Void) - by
The call of the void they call it,
That feverish urge to just jump,
Take a one way flight, from a dizzying height,
Sometimes it’s like falling in love.
The call of the void they call it,
That feverish urge to just jump,
Take a one way flight, from a dizzying height,
Sometimes it’s like falling in love.
Thaim the maist idle at chynge are aye deaved
wi the biggin o idols tae staun owre the lave
o whae heized thaim up by, mebbe fine, maistly no
wi the auld warl we’re bidin in yit, faur ablo.
Warm June, the Simmer Solstice in Glen Gairn
Inbye a fermer’s caravan, bairns sleep
The Day’s bin theirs, dookin in peaty puils
The Nicht is mine, I steer tae hear tods creep
Milada Horáková lost her fecht
but left her country wi love,
and her nation wi honour
I gove sae lang at ae space –
whit else tae dae? –
I’m seein the white o ma ain een.
da sunlicht strikes da back
o mi een an cuts trow da fug
o mi fitful heid an hit’s a dumb dug
Have you ever stopped to consider the qualia of a chicken?
At the outer edge of what we call our selves
we meet; the blank page lies between.
The world opens its eyes,
Breathes in acrid chemical.
Light enters in a burning slingshot of negative mass and energy.
All the trees on the triangle of the shopping centre have been
cut down and then there was no building. Lockdown.
I care. I don’t care. I drive my car
Sùilean meallach air gach taobh,
cha lèir dhaibh nimh an làin
Ged is fradharc mi
chan fhaicear mi.