Tongue twists a grim night out

Songs of the underpass, sung in

a monotone on the mirror still canals

Those nights when life went out

For the give-us-a-chance young men

Into the darkness, the deep dark, we

venture, to find poets in verse and one

in song, of Irish childhood.

Monotone lives drip blue into the flaming

canal from collapsed chairs.

Sulky shadows l...

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