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
As I reach out to pinpoint position
Upon this shore of subconscious
Where desire is an abhorrent beast
And we, single dreamers, fooled
Into thinking that one night’s hold
Can stir day into a sweet surrendering

Of the isolation drowning on the shore.


All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly



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 than those kids who cannot yet count time. There, by the edge of all that cannot be measured, old dreams dreamt in younger days float out on a wave that drowns the acrid air while he comes to regard the castles his grandkids have captured in the sinking sand.

The sand is to shore
as the ship is to the sea
dreams rest in between.


 All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly


a ship at sail
weighted to the wind’s whim
captive to the currents that may come
servant to the sway of the storms
fated to the fickle folly
that lies in wait
deep down
deep in the depths
below the ebb and flow
beneath the ripples and reflections

beneath the ripples and reflections
beyond the foggy mists
we send our ships
now drifting
through the current
the coast no longer his concern
the mountains will mourn him in his passing
the leaves will return to the branches
when spring falls and the fog lifts
and we wait in hope
for the return
of our ships

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Photograph: Morning’s breath upon the water in Stockholm