THAT WHICH IS MAPPED OUT FROM THE START

  There was always an end Even before we started To circumnavigate Time’s tock- Listen Still Hear it Winding back To that first tick There was always an end We Were Just greedy Like composites Wanting to be primes.     All words photos by Damien B Donnelly

Read More…

KEPT IN RECESSES OR THROWN TO DUST

  Old wheels still turn through new miles. We are more than we look- muscle is not only what it takes to transform. We skirt old roads now well educated on my departure, it’s not just the seasons that circle back on themselves. I’ve left parts of me in every other recess in order to […]

Read More…

TO CAPTURE EACH OTHER TOGETHER

  I took photos of us once, together, to remember all I had before I set off to find myself in other fields that other lands had whispered of other welcomes across other waves, moments to return to later as I navigated new roads, strange turns and gates I had to manage alone. Now, our […]

Read More…

ORIGINS

  We are not always daughter to the day or son to the stars. Some times space shrinks and we find ourselves light years away from the planets that hold the answers to where we came from. We take giant steps across uncharted terrains, nerves attached to transmitters connected to nothing but a need to […]

Read More…

COMING BACK TO COURAGE

  I’d heard of songs being sung in other fields before I could even read the notes. Sometimes scores are set before the scenes have even been shot. Brave, they said, but I shrugged and set off. I had yet to learn how fear could freeze. A fool’s soliloquy is often lighter than the enlightened […]

Read More…

MY THREE FATES

  I- The original   Water                            floods flesh From carnal comes forth     creation Washed in sin and they watch. In judgement Water releases               hold Sign away the rights                to his name   II- The Second Coming   Tears flood                   drained desert She will be  an ocean             once more Blood             […]

Read More…

KNUCKLE KNOTTED LIBERTY

  A navy jumper, twice monthly washed, a blue shirt and striped tie with a red thread. Grey trousers growing tighter though not getting any longer. I was 12 in patient leather shoes with points to piece the playground’s pricks, all sweaty under pit and after-school spit and fearless, only, in the face of other […]

Read More…