What to report?

To what port must you swim,

in how little can one drown

(shallow is often

the sister to shady)

air is not anything

until it is nothing


and nowhere,


(sometimes existence

is only revealed

through disappearance)

are you someone

until you are seen

in the eyes of another?


What to report?

to which port do we reinvent,


is it possible for one to prevent,

(can prevention deter

a discernable direction)

fear is not anything

until it is everything


and everywhere,


(this skin does not tingle

until it’s been touched

or torn)


is there still a light

in the darkness

of the ransacked room

of this ravaged organ?


What to report?

How do you report

the trust that was taken (for granted)?


I tied to report it

but trust,

once taken,

cannot be listed

as things stolen

on a police report.


All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly



I am a being blown
from baby to boundaries
to bondage and breathless
on contrary winds
that offer no warning
and cast no conscience
towards direction, I am
a wave caught on a current
in a reversed ocean,
swimming up
to dive deeper,
going out
to come undone,
in my raw
a photo
that hasn’t been shopped,
an unfinished portrait
of a person
I haven’t quite become.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Based in a Twitter Poetry Prompt for #DimpleVerse