Saturday, April 28, 2018

Transept.

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Transept. Transept. Transsssssssssssept. A word like a vision, s slipping over the lips like water over a weir. Transept...

Elemental

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Trees keening winter nights away, their wails woven into the wind; heads of hair like seaweed taken from the strand, flails ...
Monday, April 23, 2018

Above Ground Below Ground

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Above ground my limbs fan out, carrying spoons to fill with light. You tear them up. Below ground, my roots fan out, d...
Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Where grey is the most beautiful colour: Inis Meáin

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Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Piper's Music

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The piper is a mythological entity, so, free from shackles, his significance is unlimited. Now the piper plays the notes of earth: the...
Friday, April 13, 2018

photograph

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I find you among the strewn things in the attic and pull you clear. You all but demanded to be lifted but then go mute. I drop you...
Sunday, April 8, 2018

Smoke

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In the bar in which they used to meet, I see him, in what was their place; eyes fixed on the floor-boards before him, cigarette sm...

At One End Of A Bench.

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At one end of a bench an old man wearing Winter clothes regards the fountains and Summer through melt-water irises. This m...
Tuesday, April 3, 2018

Faint

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Strange to say, those memories are barely more than water now; fluid, indistinct, and always rushing away from me; that they were ev...
Saturday, March 31, 2018

Sing Love

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On his deathbed, when speech was gone, we deciphered groans and muddled on. I remember she, visiting, took his hand and for w...
Tuesday, March 27, 2018

From her mother’s face.

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   for Kay, in memory of Geraldine At two months, she absorbs her mother’s face, all gentleness and giving; smiles back without a ...
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Saturday, March 24, 2018

The best part

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Falling in love is the best part; when all is conjecture and optimism, and your boats are high in the water. You smile in expectan...
Monday, March 19, 2018

Alone and Loneliness

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Here, I have become accustomed to silence, and silence falling, as darkness falls. I have learned to fill it with my own voice, ...

Page

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I know a good poem. And the difficulty in breaking out of the chains of my own inability to achieve that poem (and this one ain't it e...
Thursday, March 15, 2018

The Country Child

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       The Country Child. The country child runs in and out of rain showers like rooms; sees the snake-patterns in trains, ...