Mailboats Orkney: Morag & John

A work in progress. View John’s video of the launch.

Here are a couple more pics.

Here’re two versions of a poem for John Cumming’s mailboat that I’m working on at the minute.

Letter to the unkent body on the other shore

Unkent body, this is whit we hiv.
Under a buggy sky, a mermaid’s purse.
Tendrils wrinkled as the track o the pouring malt
in the brew, unravellan, leavin go.
Trow – treeded, we caal them; no eggs clipped in safe as money here;
lucked
out, washed up. Jinxed, this bonnie empty shell.

Here a creel, ruckle o sunk
ribs, rust stainin sand. Up by, they’re stacked neat but no used.
Bertie canna get aboot.

Sea urchin, towsled white
heid o hair cut to the wid, showan the shed, what a
raggedy boy, purple
wi cowld.

In the dykes, lichen. We’re past the yellow season, daffs are
dyin, it’ll be speedwell next.
If we’re spared.

Dead lamb hard. You get to ken the
sprawl that’s no sleep. I saw it
fower legs aff the grund jumpan. There no
enough grass, they’re in
poor condition this year. But there a boat:
a tractor working. The kye are yellin
to feel the spring.

This is whit I see
oot me window, unkent body. Tell me
whit you see.

Here’s the initial prototype.