The Coogit Bairn (for Sandie
Craigie)
you were
the best of us
cutting
through the bullshit
poses of
poets & poli-thickos
with
your razor-edged-gutter-rants.
all the
cack churned out from
the
brains of idiots you had seen
before,
plastering the route of your Coogit.
an
ordinary phonebox that I pass once a week
brings
you to mind your voice sharp as paper cuts,
wish you
were here to blow the shite out
of my
rafters watch pigeons scatter feathers
scruffy-dreich-whoory
angels
shivering at your blessed words
&
that tree in Glasgow
rooted
in ash, snuff & smoke.
auld
reekie I am glad you rained on us.
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