Dunnet Head


In the tactile quiet, the whine

of the nervous system drowns

the black sea, north of Dunnet

Head. A caged sound wash


on this fluid canvas –

where aspic air dulls

all but the wings

of the shearwater


beating at the numbed

goustie – a feathered

thrum and unexpected

downdraft teases


a supranormal absence

of inspiration and sound

and heartbeat. Caithness

pauses… then breathes again.



From “The Shipping Forecast”

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