I grew up mainly in England but my father's family had a house on a Scottish island called Tiree. Tiree is one of those places that becomes etched on one's soul and I can barely begin to describe what the place means to me. The poems below are accompanied by some photos of Tiree.




























Tiree

our jaws locked in fight
heads shaking each other
dogs with sea-weed trailing from our mouths
salt water saliva
that deep motional growl

"I will"

 

 

Finland

wide
and breathless sweeps your love
diffuse, carefully collected
"I can barely see a thing"

you push your head
into my chest
and it goes right through me
"I can barely touch you at all"

this is quiet ecstasy
carry me away on the stroke and curve of your neck






























April 2, 1991

On the beach Dad found a bone.
Bleached white, symmetrical,
a whale's vertebra.

He offered its use
as a candlestick.
For the dining table.

It was magically perfect.
Beyond him.

Of no use then,
we watched as he arched it away,
and into the granite,
shattering.

Not even a boomerang,
said Dad.

And at the same time,
too many miles away
my brother lay
paralyzed,
face down in a lake,
holding his breath,
his neck crushed by the impact
of the Outback.

Some things are irreversible.





























Ivanka [After "Im Abendrot"]

tenderness, even at the foul mouth of the skull,
she has leant from her window and embraced it all.
before the vast plains of white she stands,
an inferno confined and in silence speaks

"The thorn and punctured leaf of gold.
His heart to have and to hold
the agèd face of love."

"O broad still peace
through joy and sorrow
we have walked hand in hand."

































Still

Take wheat fields
and let me bathe
in the fingers through my hair
touch earth blackened honey
and know that this is how it should be

holding
on not hoping
nor not hoping
but holding

the stars move behind my eyes
and still I remain

 

You

tell me, my love, the songs
touch me, my love, the lakes
oh touch me, my love, the
provenance of your dreams

















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