Sunday, April 06, 2014

Oooo-er Madam

Well these Canadians know how to do a poetry reading! I have absolutely no erotic poetry to read so feel free to send me any dirty ditties before I go to Edmonton.

Galloway Tales continue on my other blog

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Auchencairn, and Scotland, as it Should Be

Dick Hattaraik and Billy Marshall
are drinking at the bar.
It's blue and carved from a boat
and they are sharing some porky scratchings
smuggled over last night from Holland.
On the bay, the Black Pearl, no Prince,
rocks at anchor, carronades trained
steadily up the Dumfries road. 
Outside, in a blaze of grass and yellow vetch,
some of Billy's eighty six children
play with an exciseman's hat,
while the exciseman himself
sits blushing, winding yarn for the daughter
whose beauty like Helen of Troy's
is renowned from coast to coast.
It is June, the start of a brilliant summer,
they are breathing the air of Galloway
and it is rich in love and brandy and revolution.
Boundaries shimmer, shift like haze.
It's mathematically possible, in fact, 
for Burns to come in
and put the icing on the cake.
Should I speak? 
Tell my tales of a bit of baccy 
smuggled in euro lorries, 
the angry letters I've written to the Standard,
my hidden fear that in an independent Scotland
my pension might suffer?
Maybe not.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Mid-Term Report

I am pausing for breath soon, off to Alberta to read at the Edmonton Poetry Fest then to Australia in May after the launch of my wee book from Mariscat. I'm about 50,000 words in but have much still to do, though this is the kind of project you could do for the rest of your life. This week I've been talking about camels, Lawrence of Arabia, Bram Stoker and the A75. Why? You'll need to buy the book! Ive designated the end of July as the finish of the project, or at least the handing in of a MS.