Friday 27 July 2012

Establishment Launch

I'm delighted to be part of the Establishment. Check this out, seriously, straight from the folks at Knives, Forks and Spoons Press. It's a beautiful thing. Congratulations to James McLaughlin, Jo Langton, and the irrepressible Alec Newman.

Monday 23 July 2012

Tuesday 17 July 2012

Reflections of the Sea Soul

At one point I skipped across an alien surface of flat, grey rocks, an ancient lunar landscape, already mildly transported.





Waves skinned the rock below me, burst off the wall of rock, crashed and gulped through crevices and under layers. At my feet I felt the play of water and rock – soft, solid, soft, solid – the zen pond of fluidity and hard matter.


play, skip, walk

Looking out over the Firth, the seascape was divided. On my left, an expanse of light, the sun burning through a thin veil of cloud; on my right, dark clouds, dark water, the long limb of Arran, cloaked, mysterious, dark.

yin of sparkle                  yang of deep dull grey

Over me a feeling rolls, the feeling I want my body to dissolve like salt in the water, my consciousness to expand, merge with the sea. A loss of self-consciousness, identity united. Finding myself wholly in a body of water, part light, part dark. More of the oneness. More of me in the other than I can possibly be alone.

sea being

sea breathes


being sea

breathes sea

Arran, hidden. Lifeforce, hidden.

 (lazy island leg)
 (lazy island leg)

And then, an overpowering expression of my father in me, my father six years dead, and beneath that, the sense that I am uniting with the child I was. All the sensations of childhood holidays by the coast flooding me, that little boy, that precious time in my life, released, let loose, capturing my consciousness, filling my chest; and the movements and mannerisms of my father, in my body, facial expressions, melodic vocal nuances, overwhelming me. This double identity, this union. One.

swallows swim my bloodstream

I wonder if some genetic quirk has been fully activated by the limitless expanse of sea, and if it has, then perhaps buried in that genetic code is the essence of who I am, who I am in my father, the Father, a union of souls within the infinite expression of the One.

sh ore sh

Also, an integration of Self – my senses then are my senses now. Parts of me from different time frames coming together harmoniously. A profound temporal alignment. In the distance, on the horizon, Ailsa Craig, symbol of self, faintly outlined in the mist.

man with flock of
starlings on his head

Finally, I return to the bench where my sister sits with her husband. My mother calls my sister’s phone. She wants to know if she should buy a table for her bedroom. She’d like us to see it. We leave the sound of the seas and the smell of salt air and head back into town to look at tables, and, most likely, drink coffee.

Five Minute Snapshot

two crows pecking sand on the beach some distance from black dog, who spots them, begins the chase. boy in black hooded top runs from mother towards ice cream kiosk, called back, told to wait. another boy bouncing ball, finds amusement in overflowing swing park, ball dribbles, abandoned, into wire fence. child cyclist claims to have cycled 15 miles that day. low plane bends over beach, lands in airfield behind the town, all heads on prom look up.

Friday 13 July 2012

Costa Bounce (for Mike Cannell)

mind fathom liquid lamb
unbounded BO(iii)NG bus -
cuss cess
castration pond, pool pounce
LEGO oud. id

 oddity) oudity. nude.

napalm frond. pine coal
carcinogen with


 banana) bone.

cleft urgent (ramshackle)
constabulary. organic
mead menstruation through
deciduous foreign organ.
rain flow organ.
rain florgan.

cellphone. cellophane.
cellotape. cello.

chill orange. cinnamon testicle.

lemon tart espresso.

Tuesday 10 July 2012

Dream Poem & Interpretation

My dead grandfather speaks
thru the telephone, sickened
by the world he haunts, its
ecstasy of suffering; appears
& complains the world abandons
him. Late, the Mother enters,
her seductive confidence &
dripping saliva jacket,
ed by my grandfather who
threatens her with kisses.
Neither is Danny dead; he lives
in tents up the Cauder,
ensconced in hippie liberty;
creator of waterfalls, spirit trees,
sound gardens, jungle highways,
smokes the ash end of the reefer;
dull actors in
1950s sports cars castigate
his absence.
                  My view of it all
is Arran through windows, binoculars,
too late to go to church, tho apparently
not London.


My grandfather (on my father’s side), not the most approachable man, is paranoia, fear of the New World Order, the awful state of the world. The return of the Mother is the return of the feminine, the goddess, the female energy that begins as spirit, then filters into wordly affairs, politics, business. My grandfather, that old male domination, is threatened at first by her liberty, her sexuality, but gives himself over to her. The skip to my old friend who died recently is a leap to the personal, and speaks of escape, liberty from my old ways, old hang ups about God (at least a mythic God, the dull actor, not God who is One) a leap into spiritual liberty, light, peace. My friends, pleasant aspects of the Self, are creative; the water highways are subtle energy channels running through the centre of my body, uniting earth & sky. Finally, the detached view at the end is a view of mystery, an embrace of mystery. Arran represents mystery, as it did when I was a child, sitting on a beach looking over the Firth of Clyde to its majestic peaks, reading Lord of the Rings. The escape to London is the leap into the now, or perhaps the healing of old wounds at a time when the church is going through its last days on earth. In this situation, though not recorded in the poem, I am with friends and am whole with them, though not without tinges of insecurity.

Friday 6 July 2012

My Mime Me

What belongs to me.

What I may possibly be.

What is solid, and relates to others, solidly.

What rolls and bridges.

What breaks down, weeps, is reflected in another.

What mirrors in the eye, the I.

What ascends?

What climbs?


What I am when I hide, when I merge in you.

What I am constrained.

What when I am you,

when I am you.

And when I am what.

When when I am.

Or am what.

What I suffer.

What I offer.

What I give back.

What I impersonate,



What I manifest when what is whole in me.

What emerges,

is planted,

is beyond recognition, knowing,


What is known.