© 2010 James McLaughlin
James from Dumbarton in Scotlandseat
of 'The Bruce' ancient capital of Strathclyde, biggest whisky bonded warehouse
area in the world, three miles from Loch Lomond. Mature student of Glasgow
University studied under Edwin Morgan and Tom Leonard amongst others.
Graduated 2003 MA HONS in English/American Literature and Scottish History.
Published in Stride, NTHPOSITION, gistsandpiths, free verse next issue,
leafpress, Great Works, Blackbox Manifold issue 3, blazevox, Poetry Scotland,
Ditch, the-beat, toadinthemud, Glasgow University Poetry Mag, DDD,
As I get close to that bit of my heart that remains with
you. That bit where defiance grindsa freeze frame of relics
sand stroked by the ocean. An entasis of space
an answer to some subjugation and neglect. There is nothing
now except the edge of a blade on its aegis. A bird takes
flightflame darts from a tongue. The same bird that
fed on a gravegave light to other instances of light.
Give me significance. Or a falling back or round and round
a drifting forwards into space. Sinew tries to recoil
dies upon an open box. Sometimes I gaze at the black.
So many days have been spent like the rain drawing through
the trees and snowcascading over the edge of a whist wind.
When we go back time seems to stand still as the shadows.
In this sunlit foresteach aspect is new and intractable.
I hear men finishing their workit is Friday afternoon.
Cars race from factories to beer and Sky sports.
I see them through the trees and watch. I want to be part
of that their world out there but I can't. I must remain
by the river and silencesearch the air for comfort.