Category: poems
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Persephone
Although it is a language she prefers that there would be no way to pronounce it. A persephonic lullaby that stretches shoots from that which has fuzzed, melted and fallen apart A call to the canopy to sway favourably to the four directions the elementals seeking sovereignty over their alchemical predilection. And the blinding rise…
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A love knot
At your pull I feel my current swell my body knells and calls you to worship at the depths of me. We are sacred things breathing fragrant fire lit off the ether. A love knot made from pagan hides tanned in Atlantic skies, although we are unbound by shame and doubt. Free to rock and…
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Aileen’s Song
At your ankles and elbows are angels. Spritely things that light the irises that blossom and blink in your fingertips and split-ends when you walk among them so that you might illuminate that which is unseen. You to whom darkness is not an enemy, amniotic to the anamnesis of jaded destiny. Lantern lit at…
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Smithfield
And she cannot look at me for long. She cried four times. Not for us. Because the hallway had been painted grey, because she had a cold, because she missed a long dead pet. Because I would not look away? She does not know how to say that she cares. My mother, she cannot look…
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Deirín
Along the granite shore the bulls rush at the beckon of a breeze while hollered out of hiding are the brackish geese, striding through skies cast with the sulk of the ever fickle Atlantic slip. The skirts of a femme-fatale, mesmeric yet melancholic. Outdone only by the tragedy of Lír in the shatter of swans…
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I am the child disorganized A duality of being, a dichotomy of lives in a dialogue of truthful lies I am sexless as she and fertile as death fecund as decay and as withering as blossom I am incompatible with myself a shadow cast by no one one life lived in plural a collection of…
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A Passage Psalm
There is nothing in this that cannot be languid, long. Juniper limey twist, the softness of f’s and s’ on your tongue and the oh bone e oh setting, the muscle stretching the lid settling Nature of your balm On afternoons that grow like calendula, It’s own root Strong by the virtue of subtlety. There…
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Bitten
All along it was a fever that came down with me. I came to burn the witch the simmer and twitch of madness but firewater does not burn her clean on the end of the mourning in the middle of the afternoon you are a balm to me down in the meadow scrubland undergrow I…
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Milk Tooth
I know there was a time, once upon another. Attics and trampolines and red bicycle rides down midnight drives, mushroom yawns and mescal dawns. There was. there was A gypsy joy, a spiral that rose like silk spun from the absinthe ascendant worm dizzied by our wheel and reel. I know I know I was…
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incant/decant
#1 A sleep. Broken thing. Collector of bones. Witchy girl. Which he… Sad sack, sorry for yourself what for for what? For a claw at your scruff his hand there his hand there his hand there I wake up again again again with his hand there. Your hands can’t touch anything now girl, which he…
Sionnachaí 