About the poet
Writing in his 1990s study of Alasdair Gray’s novels, Stephen Bernstein identifies Gray as “one...
O Moon, to be lost with you in midnight sky
drinking your font of holy water dry!
That I cannot lie on your astral body
afflicts me like kicks in the appendix.
O moon, I am all yours when you add light
to warmth of an enchanting autumn night,
or through ragged clouds as the wild wind raves,
gleam on stormy seas and ship-wrecking waves.
Blind asteroid, too cold to melt the wings
of we who fall exhausted from your height!
Pale night skull, balder than a bureaucrat!
Pill, waking no one from lethargic state!
Huntress Diana, give from Cupid’s quiver
an arrow, a lead-pointed, to wield like
hypodermic needle and inoculate
my heart against what makes me so unfit:
life. Tonight I wash my hands of it.
uncollected, first published in The Dark Horse, 20th Anniversary Issue, 2015, © Alasdair Gray 2015, used by permission of the author
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