TRACKS AND CHANGES

  They’ve built a running track beneath the low hum of this humdrum small town with its two pubs, skinny batch and round tower. Men lift weights with uncovered arms that’ve been internally attacked by giant sized popcorn. I lift smaller weights in the privacy of the shadows in the back garden but have still […]

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8 HAIKU AFTER ULYSSES, BLOOMSDAY

  1 Nimbly leaping, Wing-like hands all fluttering. The forty-foot hole. 2 Make room in the bed Said he with key now at hand And plump body plunged. 3 Tell him she says but What can he do, if not smoke? Life’s not a rose bed. 4 Lethargy. Flowers. The air feeds most. Sensitive. Botanic […]

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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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ORIGINAL SONGS

  Here now, flown back to nest since moved in absence, these streets hold no shadows of my former shyness, they do not call me by nickname, or your name. I was never open enough then to be called by your name, their name, his name, back then when there was no him and barely […]

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VREEMD OF MISSCHIEN NIET (STRANGE OR MAYBE NOT)

  She was called Éireann, even in Holland, (misschien vreemd, ik weet het) though she was greener than I ever was, back then, with the mud of the land still caked into her guards while I was off and running, ever forward, adding guards to my guards till I saw the earth was round when […]

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BLOOMING SHADES

  Everything is cyclical like sunlight and seasons and hair styles and hemlines. Everything is cyclical. I found you at the first turn- a pencil line on a blank canvas by an academic of fine fashion with a fringe of falling violets, it was the back side of the Botanics, at the later side of […]

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POETRY DAY IRELAND

Tomorrow is Poetry day Ireland but as we can’t go out and do our thing, we are staying in and doing our thing anyway. Poetry time at Alan Hanna’s Bookshop in Dublin will be online and celebrating from 11am onwards on Thursday. Catch us on twitter and instagram and Facebook and anywhere we can make […]

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SOUTH CIRCULAR ROAD, DUBLIN 1995

  I slipped recently onto an old road that had circled back onto my diverted path to find myself at first flat, basement floor, 25 years grown between us like the weeds in the forgotten garden where I looked to see if the cobbles still recalled my sole before remembering how, on winter nights that […]

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