WHEN ONE HAS PERSPECTIVE AND THE OTHER JUST THE SHELL

Sun shines over sea shell. One holds an echoand the other; a memory of how it feltbeneath the wave, before it dug up the word drought. From this angle, I can see the water consideringits return, but I hold the perspective of distanceand the shell; only sand. And that echo of the sun burning. Sun […]

Read More…

BLACK BEAUTY, THE LIGHT IN LOUGHSHINNY

  Clouds congregate under summer skies, standing towers, still, waiting for Napoleon’s rise. Up close, only echoes of history hit the hollowing rock below- coming in to slip out with more, in search of possession on another shore. There are footprints on the beach- horses hooves whose metal shoes now feel the rust of the […]

Read More…

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 […]

Read More…

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, […]

Read More…

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 […]

Read More…

BY THE TIDE

  There, by the water’s edge, where kids collect sand in pails as if a piece of plastic can save time, he watches docking ships report their findings- new worlds beyond the old waves he never managed to rise above. I had the urge for going, he recalls saying once, when he could run faster […]

Read More…

BRUSHING IT AWAY

  Blue sky growing old, sun sets into dusty pinks- a hark for tomorrow for today cannot be harboured any longer. In this slow field surrounded still by stilled life, still the trees grow, even daisies have returned after the mower’s menace last Monday. Single crow comes to gather seeds from once shadowed sections of […]

Read More…