Angus McHaggis' Scottish Set

A mind reader once turned his powers against himself and saw God's strobing eye in the feedback loop, glassy like a porthole and gazing at nothing specific. Next he saw a cherry tree

It's like that story about the man trapped down the well - the children found him but they would not go for help. There is no moral to the story; the kids' paralysis and the adult unable

Sasha has wasted most of her youth Trying to be amazed by flight. Yes, when the jet engines bite She feels a pressure in her crotch As if she needs to wee But there’s none of the rapture

Given time, they say, Water can wear down mountains, Give it time, goes the cry, And it can rub the Queen’s face off a penny. Up in the highlands The fog clung in marbles to the thick weave

She peeks over her spectacles Like a vexed librarian But this is no library And I am no inconsiderate reader. She does not vocalise her complaint But I assume it is something to do

Flicking off lollypop ladies We rattle full-clap down rampart high streets. What d’you mean turn down my music? I’ll listen to Leonard Cohen any volume I feel comfortable with,

When Erasmus wept We made our excuses and left The room, then came back One by one to ask: Are you okay? Would you like to talk about it? Come on, mate – you’ll be all right. Back slap