the foolish man builds his house upon the sand
the storm comes, the rain falls
and the waters rise
the house falls down with a great crash
chapter two: the ark
on Monday there was a storm (south westerly)
branches broke on the big sycamore trees outside our flat
I was taking our names off the door
before I would sit here squinting
making the leaves and branches
into the shapes of eyes, peering in at us
in a few hours that punishing wind
stranded a ferry up by Aberdeen
covered the Sidlaws in snow (so that the A93 was closed)
and left the sycamores skeletal
bones scraping the sky
I'm listening to one of your LPs
it's darkness envelops me
in this cold empty house
that still smells of you
your possessions here in hastily packed boxes
I can see my breath
last night I dreamed
I built an ark
ready for the next storm
chapter three: before when I was in China
"spooning water from a broken vessel
as far as I can see there is no land"
in my hand a cold hour, pocket watch:
snap open, hands frozen,
petrified at an afternoon in august
one thirty five
a kiss
that the time no longer marked.
this one is a tiger year, wear
me down
I am the paws of a tiger (but really that wasn't me... I am a bull, we are the dragon)
a higher cause?
is sacrifice more noble than love?
a needle slowly swings
north east, east by north east
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