Mimes of North Tuan Conjures Coundsmoor Brook

posted in: Poetry

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

Hermit of Burrian

posted in: Poetry

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

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