Fraser Mackay, 6 października 2012
nothing like expected the universe
glimpsed from side-on now waiting
for some ephemera to clutch
hosanna like run a giddy mile
ice formed in these unexpected hours
a vision of Scott dead at the pole
his dog tied to a sled
huddled against the bitter wind
on the mainland night shadows
slid the tarmac white doves
circled the black-slashed-dross-fallen-sky
this madness is not authentic
like yesterday’s grey wash — but not so
unpleasant to go within
the arc of the door swinging closed.
Fraser Mackay, 6 listopada 2011
sizing up the shed’s frame
a magpie glides in
lands on the ridge
raised and fixed about an hour ago
Fur Elise floats across the winter fields
lines dangle, footsteps wander
undulations somehow escape
my mind’s dogged need for order
we walk euphoric miles
knee deep in sand dunes
the ocean does its lunar thing
we do have that in common
radio quiet, the pencil’s music
without appetite weaves thoughts
dreams and fears — as the changing light
inexorably shifts the margins of our life
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