NOT ALL CREATURES CAN BE CRUSHED

  Not all creatures can be crushed- some lords have lizard skins beyond the light to slip from. Behold, stilled soil but the other side has been broken.    All words and photos by Damien B Donnelly. Photo taken at Pere Lachaise, Paris

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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 […]

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TELEMACHUS BY THE 40FT, BLOOMSDAY

  Dreams are big black cats. There are ghouls that come in waves, the Sea- a grey sweet mother snot green, scrotum tightening, come and look, smell- wax and rosewood in the distance, death has not yet departed. Waves rise along rock, bile is collected in china plate. The sea is grey, the china white, […]

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AFTER W.B YEATS

  5 Poems based on lines from W.B Yeats… ‘And I shall have some peace here, for peace comes dropping slow,’ The Lake Isle of Innisfree W.B. Yeats Slow Falling Snow falls behind the glass, beyond the reflections this window cannot see. Snow, soft as the soul; a canvas of white fleeting purity, as pure […]

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A SONG ABOUT THE SPIRALS

  The circles spiral. Goodbye is not a definitive swan song. Time cannot be buried in a single spot. Early evening and the sun no longer sets in this kitchen that watches the seasons turn without comment. The sills have new shadows we have not yet named. This morning broke over fallen feathers and for […]

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BEFORE THE STILLNESS

  I sit, in stilled space, trusting time and these proses to act as forgivers to all I cannot forget. I sit here, in this stilled space, taking trips that tease time with twists and turns. I move not in straight lines but articulate thought through the acts these tracks have taken, the un-regrettable mistakes […]

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BOOKENDS; SLOW MOVING SORROW

In the supermarket on Saturday in the 14th on the 14th in numb November in Paris, their Paris, our Paris, my Paris, people push grief in comfortless trolleys down shadowed aisles of silence, strangers claiming their spaces in solidarity, in queues of slow-moving sorrow, seeing shadow in places where once there was light, terror in […]

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SHORT STORIES OF FEAR; WATCHING YOU WATCHING ME

   The Dead one I woke to a mouth already swallowing the claustrophobic earth that mounded itself over my naked torso like crumble over stewed apples waiting to be crisped but I couldn’t feel the warmth of an oven, even buried, as I was, so close to the sparks of hell but, instead of digging […]

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SHORT STORIES OF FEAR; STILL ACHING

  A Short story of Horror I’d been back a month, the city of light they called it, Paris and all its lovers, everyone hand in hand, lips locked like they were lynching the breath from each other and there I was, alone. It had become my city of shadows; dark, devious and doomed. Why […]

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