Poem In Which I Collage Lines By Roddy Lumsden

for Roddy on his birthday



Roddy, you sweet, doomed saint:


near the spot the ghost-kitten of a barmaid

kicked off her shoes, your luck will change


by way of love songs, cognac and phantoms.

Let go the raincloud of your former self (which I hear


exists). And as I find myself privy to this information

– the ex-loves, the half-loves, crushes, obsessions –


1993 documents found – 0.440 seconds search time

may you dream of the sweetest hazelnuts.


Terrific heart, summer can’t be far.

Never try to drink the sea, rather ice-water, beer


or dizzying broth. Your mouth is a full pink teacup.

Lime Rickeys and wine are scuttling and gorgeous – you look


astounding! I am sorely tempted to write a poem called hug-me.

When will you dance the one dance in your repertoire?


Tipsy sherbet will decide the night for us. One thousand

thank-yous, poet. There is a lot to learn and far to go.


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