New Pitsligo


Up north past Ironfield, the Blackdog Rifle Range,

Trump’s pompous golf course for unhappy god-kings

And the pretty oak limbo of Old Deer,

A six-sided diner levitates among the trees,

Solid green on five sides, endless low sky on the sixth.

The solitary watchtower, a field scout in peacetime.


The patrons know and understand each other.

Red and blue fairy lights dress up black pipes.

A middle-aged flower child approaches,

Crosses one leg over another,

Welcomes, lists off specials,

(She works here, apparently).


A wind-up gramophone and an electric organ

Doze in separate corners of the room.

Spirit in the sky‘ on the sound system,

Falls parallel to fluttering laughter

And the rattle of toy train wheels

Against toy train tracks.


A red LED sign repeating:

... how on earth will I find you
when all my searching is done
out of this world, you remind me,
there are more worlds where this one came from
how on earth will I find you ...

A cuckoo clock chimes, simply.

A caramel and ivory waiting room

In the mind of Ivor Cutler,

A rare Sylvanian daydream.