Timorous Beastie

There’s not much timorous about you my friend
Scrotal ye are, and swelling

Otter

In honour of this liquid creature / Who twists between worlds / Blending shadow and light

A door opens to let in the moon / A crescent on its side / Eye to the telescope

Cool and clear / Their voices curve / Through the night air

As the conversation turns to origins, I sense a shifting alliance around the table. South outnumbers North, and a geography … More

We have spinned focus / Colours blur to a single fixed mark / And you become my own optical illusion

I haven’t yet named the thing / That is lost, or gained / When death comes near / But stays his hand

We walk in / Over water-creases / Across snow-fields

The white houses that hug the hillside by day / Are set adrift in an inverted world by night / Floating, tilted on the lip of the sea