SHETLAND, But Also ORKNEY and their many treasures

Tonight I stand at my backdoor right before you,
asymmetric to Moon & Mars,
allegoric to northern night, as I’m waiting for flying rocks –

They put a soul
in wood

they made me

I was named

and given my fate

to die

in flames

twelve months of creation

five minutes of fame

Up Helly Aa witch

burnt at ni…

...I stayed chased by his words

Venus is blushing in deep space;
now I’m flirting with
your coastline,
I’d love to see your
great outback.

The nothing.

The heart of God.

The coldness & silence.

The dark side of the earth.

Gutting a fish
is like ripping yourself apart –
sharpness on the folded metal
rakes off your coat,

I need a thread.

Not any thread. Lifeline or wool, spun to my dreams like weaving hands on warp and weft.
Sheep too sleepwalk in nearby fields, in-between dawn and tussock grass.

I am not from here

I see things

not real

I was walking today
by the sea

wind was pushing me
hard

and I had this thought

jump

funny thing

can do it only
once

snow hits

I saw windmills

diving

like driftwood on the sandy beach

There, there,
don’t hold your tears.
It’s in your eyes that big blue dream,
like suspended on each ripple –
holding hostage that small lighthouse,

60 to the highest dreamer!

When I think of homeland,
I look at earth, ancient part of
your American universe –
domes of heather
above ocean,
our Atlantic,