The ping of pink skin

Blades flash on ice.

Raspberry juice on ice cream

How pretty the bluing.

My cool mind as crisp as a
Sunny winter’s day

Seconds drip to the floor

where the blood sorbet pools.

Three cheers for the red, white and blue.

The Messages

Worm-sentences wriggle,



sequentially Big-Banged,


The mouth though,


Flabby-flopped tongue

Lolling, rolling-

Overblown dough.

Words spark electrically.

Dendrons sending

Zip-wire messages

Out to you.

You get me.

To Be Young And Leaving Town

To be young and leaving town.

A new wind’s freshness blowing

convictions that the past can’t stop

the budding of your growth.

Supple truths shape you anew,

Pliant with made friends and lovers.

You have made room with an eager discarding

Of bets hedged, dice blindly thrown,

Sorrows dustily stowed in yesterday’s loft.

But old leaves have a habit of sprouting

In your untended garden.

On Dissolution

Lie me in a dream: all foggy precision,

the snot-green sea of Mystery coldly lapping.

Float me apart: my ever-expanding self,

It’s atoms light-speed bound by no-time.

Lay me, allay me: beyond truth and lies

On the outreaches, where the edges blur,

Where beginnings ends begin

have me seeing being everywhere

Until there is no me and all.

When I lie beside you desire satiated

another rises, the annihilation of self,

Usurpation of us. Weary of the want

To be everyone and everything,

Let the loneliness dissolve and the aching be absolved.

Have me either god or woo-woo.

On Awakening

I woke to the wonder of pale curtains

and half-shut blinds.

A reflected moon from the neighbouring

attic window glinting through the slats.

A hypnagogic slender Japanese towel

being dried by the mind-breeze

was unveiling its connection

to the metal step-ladders erect and bedside,

and for an eternal minute

something was about to be revealed.

Try a Little Tenderising

a childhood of soft kicks

boots with pillows on

silent treatment and tongue-lashings

a bludgeoning of too much

and not enough

competitive tenderising

black and blue moods

the cathode-ray complicit

truth lies in comedy

friends are funny

he hit you on the head with a brick

back to playing with him tomorrow


Haw maw,

Remember the day in ‘66

when ye caught me

wi Labour bumf

an’ ye went mental.

At me, eight years auld.

Ye’d aye been Conservative

and Unionist, cos

“Toffs know how tae haundle money”

Although giein ye were brought up

By the McGairs, fae Laughgall

Ah suspect the Unionism

wis a bigger hook.

Already at that age Ah’d figured oot

Ah’d rether pit ma faith

in a government ah could get rid ae,

than in toffs ah couldnae

And ma inconsequential Da

quietly ticked the SNP box

saying, if ye supported Clyde in Glesca

ye should try an be consistent.

A Devotion

I long for God,

For myself,

That part of me which is Him.

I see him daily

Nodding to me

As we pass in the street.

We know each other

Intimately and well.

Our Souls kiss in the passing.

He is Everything,

As I am Particular.

He floats to my surface,

Embraces my senses,

Shows me Beyond,

Loves me timelessly.


Salt: Memorial, Preservative

Oh for skin

taught, loose


nuzzled and smelled

imagined, remembered

unfeeling layers of it

the thin boundaries

encasing the slippery innards

of desire

and no bones about it…

afterwards, you,


Weeping from your jelly eye

all the details you could muster

Seep into your filmy cluster

GooGoo eye.

I could have licked those tears

as I do now.