BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO. 10, NAPOWRIMO

 

I hear you

preaching

still

from your performance 

pulpit,

the shit-pit of sermon 

where you scared 

the simple man.

I hear you 

still

preaching 

of parish and prayer

with your manners moody 

at mass 

with the mouldable masses.

Years later

over dinner 

and before dessert 

you spilt your sins

between the bread and wine,

your collar in the car

and your blessed ring

upon your manhood.

We can dress in robes,

we can fuck who we want,

but you can’t preach before the choir 

if you take boys in for hire.

All words and drawings by Damien B. Donnelly

BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO. 8, NAPOWRIMO

 

In sweeping rain 

he was swept through streets 

in a taxi turning with thoughts

he had not yet learned to express. 

Windows can shield 

from more than just the weather.

In unswept rain

he was sweeping through streets

that had not yet soaked him,

had not yet drained him

on the storms that were settling

under the shade of summer.

He was a spring in the bloom 

in the shadow of a back seat,

speeding through streets

already stained with too many winters.

All words and drawings by Damien B. Donnelly

BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO. 7, NAPOWRIMO

In the shadows

not yet departed

from former students

since departed

confined in compartments 

the Polish left to the Irish,

red vinegar wine

(as vulgar as the vultures 

who drowned in its deluge)

caught itself in corners 

still not drunk 

by the blow-ins

still bleating

about the burnt beef

and sodden soil 

as we made smoke chains

in our simple chambres

to choke a distance 

between the homes we had left

and the hands that hadn’t 

yet let us go. We may have been 

from the same barrel born 

but had desires to be labeled 

in a better bottle.

All words and drawing by Damien B. Donnelly

BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO.4, NAPOWRIMO

 

I thought I would learn something more fortuitous 

than just fear

in those hollow halls

I learned to hate,

but books were not bats

when boys became bullies. 

Fragility can grow like strength

but the wonder we weigh

on the fragile flower 

only overshadows 

the tears that stem 

beneath to petals.

All words and drawings by Damien B. Donnelly

BORDERS AND BOUNDARIES, NO 2, NAPOWRIMO

You cannot go back,

to return does not mean to rerun,

I recognise these streets,

recall a certain laugh,

a twisted lie,

an open door,

but my footprints have changed,

I cannot find the same sunflower

I drew when I was younger

than this youth I now cling to

and so many 

of those old doors have twisted

and the lies opened out to be

nothing more than lessons.

I cannot go back,

the streets now wear shadows 

that never fell from my form.

All words and drawings by Damien B. Donnelly