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Thinking of Helensburgh, J. G. Frazer Revises flayings and human sacrifice; Abo of the Celtic Twilight, St Andrew Lang Posts him a ten-page note on totemism And a coloured fairy book.
— Robert Crawford
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James Murray combs the dialect from his beard And files slips for his massive Dictionary.
Among circuitboard crowsteps To be miniaturised is not small-minded. To love you needs more details than the Book of Kells — Your harbours, your photography, your democratic intellect Still boundless, chip of a nation.
Semiconductor country, land crammed with intimate expanses, Your cities are superlattices, heterojunctive Graphed from the air, your cropmarked farmlands Are epitaxies of tweed.
Throw all your stagey chandeliers in wheel-barrows and move them north To celebrate my mother's sewing-machine And her beneath an eighty-watt bulb, pedalling Iambs on an antique metal footplate.
Ghetto-makars, tae the knackirs' Wi aw yir schemes, yir smug dour dreams O yir ain feet. Yi're beat By yon new Scoatlan loupin tae yir street...
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