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Poetry

  • The beany epiphany

    Undressing.The wind licks my skinThe sea with her lovely limbsembraces meMe Head underFrozen Sudden rain on the hillArrives ahead of time Sand whips up in beautiful patternsPummelling my faceLike snow winds DressingNow I know for realI touch theRage of another’s griefAnd I will not drown.

  • Beer hall

    The room was stillExcept for yellow curtainsOrange and brown carpetThe air blowing them showing theirBare windows underneath.Comfortless windowsThe beer stained carpet of age and dustThe trapped smells of drinkingAnd forgetting

  • La Bise

    The air sangTo the tune of youMy heart spun out its thread and stretched from mast to mastHumming and rattlingThis boat body

  • The Celtic hand or Dupuytren’s contracture

    My dad is a gardener and a slayer of men.I met him late in life at about 10amHis fingers bentthis man of rain,Of wet sea mist lanesthat have no beginning or endJust hedges and roadsNumbing the painin his tight clenched handsthat no longer summon the musicthat I never heard. My dad is the sycamore treeWith…

  • The Ahichill hare

    The Ahichill hare

    There was a young hare from Ahichill.He appeared to be rather bejeweled.He took off his necklace and spun it three timesand hopped all the way up the speed pole.