Roll yourself into a serpent skin, enter the current, swivel and swim, plunge north, swing your hips beyond Montrose, the castle at Wick. The grooved ware pot on its side says come. I’ll make you gush, whispers the … Read More
He sees the swallow roll on her back without falling. He listens for her song day after day. His plot is narrow, he wears a heart of clay. He bolts the window. Is that breathing under cloths in the … Read More
She’s lifted the lid from the sky, swung Rousay to float on the grain of her rag paper, eased her blunt pastel stick to the island’s black hump. The clouds she conjured from dust give weight to its flanks … Read More
With a bowline tied to your monkey-fist, with your heaving-rope coiled sun-wise, bow to Faray, engine in reverse. With your stern door lined up to the ramp, the quarry to starboard, slumped where the stones for the pier were … Read More