Tuesday, February 26, 2019

Moving House

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I am casting away the jetsam of forty years; the once indispensable, now surplus cargo of a life that failed to reach its destinat...
Thursday, February 21, 2019

The Clam

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I picked a clam from the beach, a beautiful thing. Its valves exquisitely symmetrical, its surface lustrous, ridges swept in a gra...
Monday, February 18, 2019

Stream

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                                      Sinuous,           the stream weaving braids:   its muscles,                solving the puzz...
Wednesday, February 13, 2019

A Rose For Valentine's

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Imagine an embrace: enfolding, encircling. Imagine it warm, not intense, but lush pleasure. Imagine it deep within other embraces; s...
Monday, February 11, 2019

The Boy Who Watched For Apparitions

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  Goodnight to the twin moons   stretched along the railway tracks   outside Roscommon.   My night-time window halved   wit...
Wednesday, February 6, 2019

Still Island*

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The trees make a cracked sky; beyond that, they make no sense at all. There is so little soil beneath them; they grow into deformi...
Monday, February 4, 2019

Patsy's Life

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Patsy Patsy thinks of sex, but without faces; he often thinks this way because there never was a welcoming face, so he's n...
Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Bridge Life

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It was, of course, bridge life: the monk-like garb of old men, their herring-boned elbows on the parapet, at home with those a...
Friday, January 25, 2019

A whiter shade of pale

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The ‘Whiter Shade of Pale’ was playing downstairs; it was a strange grab from the house of her childhood. She went into to her paren...
Monday, January 21, 2019

In Driving Rain, Winter Evening, Roscommon Street, 1967

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                                                    Fifth door. Beatified in neon glow, barber’s neat hands spume around farmer’s ...
Friday, January 18, 2019

Scalene.

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'Scalene, scalene, scalene', he repeats over and over. The word a stroke he keeps swimming; each scalene keeps his hea...
Wednesday, January 16, 2019

Declaration

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‘Life is shorter down the red end of a match', he said apropos of nothing and continued to look out the window, his pupils tiny ...
Sunday, January 13, 2019

Murmuration

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In this moment you and I: love, loves and feelings; our place and time together, apart; my crooked walk, your long hair, my ...
Wednesday, January 9, 2019

Solar Festival of Newgrange

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At the Festival of the Golden Light of Síd in Broga* I sucked pale sunlight and exhaled it golden. You drank it at the eyes ...
Monday, January 7, 2019

In The Ring

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One word thrown into the ring, and intimacy is honed to cruelty. Our red mouths’ lining never spared; if I ever loved you, it ...