ORIGINS

  We are not always daughter to the day or son to the stars. Some times space shrinks and we find ourselves light years away from the planets that hold the answers to where we came from. We take giant steps across uncharted terrains, nerves attached to transmitters connected to nothing but a need to […]

Read More…

TO COME TO THE TABLE

  Knowledge is not an end in itself Some of the best books have made me yawn- After Nietzsche I needed a nap And Joyce makes me question often My ability to comprehend the written word. Perhaps that was always his aim. Knowledge is not an end in itself No jump is ever made after […]

Read More…

THE NEXT NOTE

  Wondering how to move now after such torpidity, wondering how to recognise now the trenches as we take slow steps across the battle fields of playgrounds, bus stops and aisles packed with questions of contagion carried in other people’s trollies. Wondering how to move again after such paralysis- limbs lurching as thoughts shift forward […]

Read More…

OBITUARIES. FATHER’S DAY

  You loved watching football and found joy in the obituaries; the last lines of life after it had been lost. You liked watching the news and thrived while washing the car, in the driveway, on a Saturday and maybe again on a Sunday after handing the missal out at mass, rubbing and scrubbing over […]

Read More…

TRACKS AND CHANGES

  They’ve built a running track beneath the low hum of this humdrum small town with its two pubs, skinny batch and round tower. Men lift weights with uncovered arms that’ve been internally attacked by giant sized popcorn. I lift smaller weights in the privacy of the shadows in the back garden but have still […]

Read More…

TWO NORTHERN MAGNETS

  We scold, even at frightening distances, you burn, there, at the centre of the sun and I roar back across the stars at you, from this comet that cannot commit, at how you could run so cold. Our landings were nothing less than lumpy- you wanted to shine so I caught you that sun […]

Read More…

8 HAIKU AFTER ULYSSES, BLOOMSDAY

  1 Nimbly leaping, Wing-like hands all fluttering. The forty-foot hole. 2 Make room in the bed Said he with key now at hand And plump body plunged. 3 Tell him she says but What can he do, if not smoke? Life’s not a rose bed. 4 Lethargy. Flowers. The air feeds most. Sensitive. Botanic […]

Read More…

POSTS AND PINS, LOTUS EATERS, BLOOMSDAY

  Are there any letters for me? Soldiers eyes watch from behind dead frames while he assumes to be a flower. Henry hopes and hosts thoughts of other blooms like his wife back in bed eating bread and singing of other men. Leo sent lines off to lift temperatures naughty he is beyond his Molly- […]

Read More…

BLOOMSDAY; A BIT OF ULYSSES TRIP AROUND DUBLIN

  James Joyce Martello Tower, Sandycove, opening of Ulysses, Telemachus- with Stephen, Buck, Haines and the Milk Woman The Forty Foot, from the opening chapter The Door of Eccles Street, home to Leopold and Molly Bloom now in the James Joyce Museum Sandymount and Strand from Proteus with Stephen Dedalus Formerly the spot of Nelson’s […]

Read More…

FOR BREAKFAST, FOUND POEM FOR BLOOMSDAY

  Relish inner organs, beasts and fowl- roast heart, slices of all kidneys. In the kitchen, breakfast, light and air, out of doors, everywhere peckish. Coals reddening. Sideways, squat. Soon. Mouth dry. A leg with tail, on high, fire. Lithe black form- sleek hide, white butt. She understands. She wants. She can jump her nature- […]

Read More…