When the pods went pop on the broom, green broom,And apples began to be golden-skinn’d,We harbour’d a stag in the Priory coomb,And we feather’d his trail up-wind, up-wind,We feather’d his trail up-wind—A stag of warrant, a stag, a stag,A runnable stag, a kingly crop,Brow, bay and tray and three on top,A stag, a runnable stag. […]
Dense sensations inside a farm animal
At mutant scrapyards
They took our birlinn, stem and stern-postsHigh as a Venetian gondola’s, and up-turned it.Every tide in the bladder-wracked sea-tongue its keel Bridged, swam the eel-currentRaces that tracked South and NorthInto and out of the Atlantic. And theyDocked our tongues, every man’s that daredGive out a taste of his father’s banter,Effortless sound-shapes an islander’s born to. […]
Dust is curious. / Dust is thirsty.
I lost my shoes on Rachel St.
/ Head lolled back to rest
/ against a pillow of the Mont
/ kiss the foot of the…
When St Fillian first came upon the sheep
/ they stood with their Sumerian heads
/ and stared him out…
Here it is the boundary with its unfindable /sadnesses…
Ana Dali, Salvador’s sister,
/ shown here in an ominous frock,
/ eloped with an amorous easel
/ to the melting apartment block.
/ She waves through a…
The night I got grave dust on my hands after dusting off my mother’s grave / I was lent a…
It is a union that suggests the essential mystery of the world.
/ Art for me is not an end in…
A breath cleaves operatic breaches in the walls
/ of shimmery, dilapidated marble halls,
/ disperses all the boundaries of hearth and home,
/ and blurs…
For Lois Pereiro
/ In Ithaca everyone was dead.
/ They say it was me, Argos the dog, who woke first:
/ — Dead, dead, dead!
/ A smell…