John thebarman Poems

In howling storm,
you are alive, waiting for me.

Here, now!
...

They said she read,
just endlessly,
novels and poems,
escaping into a new awareness of somewhere else
...

Yesterday, I put you to the saw,
sawed you limb from limb
and cut your trunk
to six inch slices.
...

What shall I wear for you?

"Purple velvet
and gloves with leopard spots"
...

Born of the spring sun
from sticky buds.

Flirty, your lyrical leaves
...

Sea Roars the Last Mantra (Tràigh Varlish, Vatersay)

I passed the most westerly house,
and through the last gate
...

One note on my flute awakens another.

Gulls call from city roofs and village piers.
Cockerels awaken the country.
...

I am
today
the sacred peaks,
the melting snow,
...

So full of such abundant flow,
the infinite drops
from heaven pour
into the fall.
...