BOOK OF MEMORIES

  I lift a book and watch as dust particles catch air (dust; tiny particles of waste matter lying on surfaces) sentences stir, structure returns to life after slumber, some things come back- having long been forgotten (memory; the mental ability to retain and to recall previous experiences) I turn pages with consideration, parts pressed […]

Read More…

BONE HEADS

  I recall when you were loutish in the school yard and I was fair game- light footed fairy in search of darker corners, a sun should never shine at the shit end of any storm or abandon fear until he’s felt the blow of a fist. I was light and you miscreant monster of […]

Read More…

ALWAYS THE LEAF

  I remember you, growing older, how your skin adapted- as if it had grown in the garden on the branch of the rhododendron. Shiny it was, with lines that time had tempered into it, ever so carefully, like you tempered peace into our panic, stillness into our hast, serenity into our cacophony. The leaf, […]

Read More…

A BLACK CANVAS

  Mum tells of no moon tonight, as if it’s been lost, as if the darkness will never rise and the sun will weep at the thought of never catching another break. We cut an apple tree in the back shadow of the front garden yesterday but left the root, to remind it, perhaps, of […]

Read More…

A BIG BULL CAN BE JUST A BIG BAG OF BULL

  I shouted at the TV last week, beyond the stilled fields recently ploughed of their prize, where now we wait and watch for new seeds where hope was replanted. I stopped to moo last week as you bellowed back at us from the not-so-stilled screen in our isolated living room- you’d be going to […]

Read More…

THE THINGS WE LEARN, AFTERWARDS

  In a fat box by the skinny bed in a dusty room rarely regarded covered clumsy with crushes are the contents of a childhood- lost letters of love- all penned but never posted & cut-outs of pin-ups next to wrist bands friends twisted & time forgot. In a lost room fallen to dust hope […]

Read More…

THE PAYMENT

  Concrete is no compliment to the current. Curls come and crash without care, you cannot keep an ocean contained in a single cup. ‘I hurl this wave with the weight of a thousand stones’ she sighs and slips back out as clouds come to commend. All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly   […]

Read More…