OUR CATEGORY : Anne Sorbie

the fishmonger

In my dream we are terrible fish mouths slicing our cheeksas we siphon kelpSometimes we hide in the greenfrom the ripple and flashof the diver and her maskThen over the ledgethrough the dark water we fallwatched by The Old Man of Hoy And the sea hides us under her chop and swell But that diver [...]

august twenty-five

death gathers her wings spread wide your mother’s body to hide soft, you ask soft, you pray in the morning rain that pours tears on the world awash cleansing us all as one soul she prepares stainless again as at birth in this place of illusion that is and is not life and death reflect [...]

the poet’s anniversary

the wind blows blusters and gales breaks apart the perfect storm evaporates the lakes and ponds pulled from the earth so recently so hurriedly that our reticent bodies still shake with wet while globe flowers flounder and irises take on the down slope without breaking their stalks. too far this medusa might has travelled, and [...]

the Neruda spell #10

do not love me do not love my words for like me they are without body or mind bereft of a place for soul so that even the touch of my bare feet to the ground signals the idea of nothing complete not even that of a life lip-licked on vellum ~ Anne Sorbie Anne [...]

the Neruda spell #9

my eyes weep violets and blood my palms hold mountains and men yet one touch of your hand is like a promissory note carved in agate on a high peak tumbled in the heat of thawing falls ~ Anne Sorbie Anne Sorbie was born in Paisley, Scotland and she lives and writes in Calgary. Her [...]