I

about right for these parts
mostly birch
some oak
my living room
where the white hind has
scented me
though I’m glassed in
standard class
on the halted train
through Glen Douglas
she follows my gaze
over her shoulder
to hillside bunkers
trots downwind
in the direction of
the sea’s drifting
foam specks
Faslane

II

consider these lilies
what you talk about
when you talk aesthetics
& these sweet coils
woodbine razorwire

III

states of matter
halogen lights
safely do away
with night & day
abolish the moon
barn owl
snatches song
all twenty four hours now
a siren
rock to my hard place
these men talk
to their lapels

IV

the streets are lined
today I found a penny
yesterday a pound coin
it’s on my shopping list
tea wine gold
that everyday hero
Midas
warned me

V

more than one sun
in the sky now
the heron’s auguries
no longer to be trusted
she too stands
on the street corner
hand to mouth
hand to ear
I still worry
about the apple trees

VI

when his teacher’s
lecture
was a flower
between thumb
& forefinger
Kasyapa smiled
I’m collecting
dead bees
from the meadows
above

VII

the poor boys
of a religious order
are in town
for a drink
& a walk
their fathers
who are not priests
but workers
pushed buttons
with forefingers
detonated

VIII

what is brought
in the mouths of
lilies of the valley
but spring
it’s not that the
bunkers
reamed into the hill
don’t wound it
they do
but that geology
is newer
than words in flower
fear piled on fear
how then is anything
possible

IX

the artist
brought his own stones
to this stony field

X

another heroic struggle
among trees
beith luis fern
sail nin huath
oak & hazel
Sweeney
& the missiles

XI

evenings spent
shelling beans
early purple orchid
adding interest

XII

elder
self sown on the
pier’s timbers
I saw the Kilcreggan ferry go
run dunlin run
& warships
rounding the point
zulus skiffs & smacks
hulking the shoreline