So now I know and
Must accept my fate
The sear of ice is
Burning in my breast
I have tried to quench it
With the gasping taste
Of whiskey
With new distractions
I have tried to warm
My blood
Suicide wouldn’t suit me
I fear the gaping hole
Of hell
But ah, to be old and
Mindless
My wretched mouth
All gums and grins
The ice dissolved at last
In drools and dribbles.
1.Tied by mortal feet
to an inland place,
I would be one of
Lir’s unhappy swans
blown across the wintry
straits of Moyle
This bland wind has
no taste, no smell.
It sweeps down fiercely
from the hills
and knocks the heads
off blooms already dead.
My new laptop lives –
it whispers, groans and purrs and
winks its crimson eye.
My face against the
grass, I smell the fecund earth,
watch the insects creep.
Daffodils today
chuir siad gliondar ar mo chroí,*
glowing, golden bright.
*they brought joy to my heart
My new laptop lives –
it whispers, groans and purrs and
winks its crimson eye.
Be still; half-close your
eyes, and listen to the sound
of the universe.
I called you Peter
And you rocked the earth
My church is full of stones
I called you fire
And you consumed me
My mouth is choked with ashes
I called you truth
And handed you a sword
How often I am pierced
And pierced again
Old scars produce new blood
The letting leaves me
Desolate and grieving
The cycles of my life
Revolving endlessly.
Her edges blurred
With layers of cloth
Pink and pinky-brown
And dusty blue
Old velvet, bits of lace
Threaded ribbons
Round her skirts
A trail of sweetness
Follows every move
Of hyacinth and lily
Minions flock
When she lifts a lazy hand
Starved for a smile
They do her bidding
Grateful to be asked
Undressed she’d be
A rosy Renoir nude
A little plump
Pink-apple cheeked
With rolling thighs
And tumbling auburn hair
If I was her
I wouldn’t dress at all
Ditch the lace and velvet
But I’m not her.
Available from Amazon in paperback and kindle format.
I will wear white silk
In your house
And drink white wine
From a crystal glass
Remote, cool, still
My will to quench
The fierce, white heat
In the night
And in the morning
Rise like a white rose
To drink new milk
From a blue cup.
The punch is spiked with glory
My senses leaping and alive
For tonight to listen is enough
And through the music of the music
Runs an old familiar voice
A thread of scarlet joy, moving
In my blood, weaving through my
Heart and lungs and lights, pulling
Tighter ever tighter ‘till I scarcely breathe
Caught like a bunch of
Doe-eyed pansies, my eyes are dark
And wild with wonder at such
Intensity of being, that I must weep
For being almost whole.
My mouth is stretched –
A soundless wail of anguish
For the sorrows of the world
An eye into hell
In the corner of my room
Cry out your lamentations
Prostrate yourselves
And weep, and weep, and weep.
Minus One now available on amazon in print and ebook format.
embookstuff 