A bothy on the isle of Jura, cold steals the subtlety of breath
Oranged by a burning million, the transfixed KLF
Whether hard by here on hinterlands or strong foundations, man’s best laid plans,
Winter a Yakuza in taking fingers, first frost lingers, ensure a fire warms your hands.
Burn a thousand notebooks full of sullen teenage poems
Burn a road or avenue, the rest still lead to Rome
The left hand path of the right to roam.
Script is unfinished but future’s fact to an actor
Last year’s innings and next’s inklings in the first sun’s twinkling
New beginnings, blank page of naive January
An annuary of importunes and sad I misseds, but diamonds gleam in fortune’s fist
Corner of tomorrow forming at the twist of a Norn’s liquid wrist, haybarn trysts
Last year’s problems lanced like cysts and demons out like exorcists
A new year insists on change within without, Spring’s whisper the Autumnshout
Creaky springs the sheets all messed, from second best bed expect no less
Unmade bed of inchoate day, the star form that bids who is what may
Direly sun needing the landscape Irish, eager awaiting light of Osiris.
Alchemisland 
Leave a comment