PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Tim Parksin conversation with Natalia Ginzburg
(PN Review 49)
Next Issue Peter Scupham remembers Anthony Thwaite in 'Chimes at Midnight' Sinead Morrissey spends A Week in GdaƄsk Rebecca Watts talks with Julia Copus about Charlotte Mew Boris Dralyuk and Irina Mashinski evoke Arseny Tarkovsky and his translator Peter Oram Frederic Raphael sends a letter to William Somerset Maugham
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
Monthly Carcanet Books
PN Review New Issue

This poem is taken from Poetry Nation 4 Number 4, 1975.

Impressions of Edinburgh Paul Mills

Mountains were travelling with us
Converging and falling away like swallows
A cloud caught the abrasion of the sun
Red-raw, fraying. The road steepened.
My hands are at the wheel, my left eye
In the inside mirror, widens.
Can it recognise itself this far?
So far, so wide, the moor will never close
There'll be no city over its wild domes
Ahead the sky arranges its reception:
What multiple interweavings
In those streaks, stilled there:
Those you will meet, those you will become.
Shale-brown, lead-grey houses
Lit windows in August, floods in gutters
Mountains suspended North in threads of rain.
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image