Wakent bi Moonlicht

I saa the Tay Brig streetch

wi naethin but hills ayont
an the stobs o the brig afore
like rottet wallies in the draig.

Syne the meen

Beats

Yeah,

and the beats, man,
the groove was good.

belated birthday

birthday
birth date
birth 

of a legendary
son-of-a-gun

mask

      the mask slips
   (as I breathe out)
      the world slides
   (as I breathe in)

Winter Light

Snow confines the earth,
colours it not entirely white

but with refracted shades,
blue with cold, breathless.

City of Tiny Lights

November night rolls up the moon;

street-lit clouds leach away its light;

something resembling starlight shakes a fist;

incandescence shines like neon saints 

converging in a sky of little rain.

every word a meaning

every word a meaning 

a shade a shadow a scrawl on a wall
unpunctuated graffiti overstretched tense
slogans on billboards jumped-up letters tortured sense

souls

crowded souls

drifting and confined
against the gates of heaven
wait quietly for the afterlife