WRECKAGE, AFTER THE REVERIE

  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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WHEN I DREAM OF WHO WE WERE

  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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SHORT STORIES OF FEAR; A MATTER OF MUD

  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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THE GARDEN OF THE MOON

  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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THE PRICE OF A STAR

  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

  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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HEMEROSCOPIUM

  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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