Between the lines and through the lens…
When I was a child, was I thoughtless or taught less or was there less to think about, less to love? Though life was never loveless. When I was a child, did I dream less because I didn’t know any more? When I was a child, I lied without knowing the truth of a […]
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Restless morning after night’s twist. From day we’d split like shadows Into the swallow of darkness But dreams are billowy breaths That toss ships under sheets Of stormy seas and we- single sleepers Under the blindness, washing up And through time and buried thought. Restless morning after night’s twist. Lip trembles at dream’s touch […]
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We used to hold hands, a quiver along the skin at touch, do you remember? You handled me like I was food, to be prepared pealed back, to find the taste within. I was advised not to- but I had hungered, had grown ill […]
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A Short Story The Americans and British were bent on finding Jim Morrison while the Irish and Japanese, for some reason, longed to add more kisses to the now ball-less Sphinx lingering over the long decayed body of Wilde, who probably watched down over their stupidity, proffered some wicked wit as their rouged up […]
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There is a shadow, like a dream too delirious to light with language, whispering more of what swam away than what smears this still water I trudge through below a bitter moon that has made his garden in this breast of man. All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly This is a […]
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And she sang of hope and harmony in a borrowed frock on Tuesday nights in a smoky bar below the Bowery where the Irish downed their whiskey while the Italians were always frisky and they touched her, always, after; her faithful followers fingering flesh as if to caress the affection she injected into lyrics […]
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The Dream; Sunday Night, Almost Light. I dream of dark nights that cannot hold their identity tight, that break into tight pieces of light when mind succumbs to dream’s dimension and stumbles (still sweaty under sheets) upon hidden altar in open field, light cast as day amid dark of night, depth of dream, this […]
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I build sentences in the mind that had no existence before, a platform to ponder in a place that doesn’t exist, in truth, until it’s been told. I move through this Hemeroscopium like an architect building a house into a home, unearthing light to contrast the shadow my thoughts have been confined in, a […]
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Nostalgia is what we try to believe, the truth is what we try to escape. Curious how comfort can often be found cowering in the corner of a cell. All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly
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Last Saturday at 2pm in Ireland, Dublin, in the Phoenix Park, in the shade of a house and in the shadow of a tree in the sunshine, Kevin Bateman gathered together a group of poets for his latest spoken word event ‘I can Dream and You can Love‘ which went out live, as usual, on […]
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