BOOKENDS; WHEN THE BREATH COMES AFTER THE BREAK

    The lilt of the lavender that lingered for days, long after, by the leaning, before the louvre, the sweet consolation of candy floss cologne that stayed on the pillow, after you had parted. It is sometimes that simple; a scent to sail you back to me as if I never left the garden, […]

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GONE, THE GARDEN

  Gone is the garden, we are paved now in parts no longer potential to growth, to goodness. And the crow caws in the corner, flesh festering into feather. Gone is the garden, we have paved paths over all that was precious while thinking thoughtless, if only we’d thought less about what we wanted and […]

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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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PURPLE CLOUDS

  In that garden of the many meadows of my mind plants grow down from purple clouds carved of cotton catchable candy and seek substance from the surface and not the ceiling. In that garden of the many meadows of my mind fences are painted with faces familiar and mouths to catch kisses if you’re […]

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PURPLE CLOUDS

  In that garden of the many meadows of my mind plants grow down from purple clouds carved of cotton catchable candy and seek substance from the surface and not the ceiling. In that garden of the many meadows of my mind fences are painted with faces familiar and mouths to catch kisses if you’re […]

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THE GARDEN

The oracle speaks: Go Goddess, chant my wants on your wind; elaborate fluff & lazy diamond dreams, whisper me with delirious honey, drive me to drunk, to drool, I will lick language languid from the beauty of your breast. Sordid is screaming but I hear a sweet symphony has grow upon those smooth skins of […]

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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 smears this still water I trudge through beIow a bitter moon that’s made his garden in this breast of man. All words and drawings by Damien B. Donnelly with the aid of the magnetic […]

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