“The British and the Americans

are two peoples

united by a common language:

that of love!”

Yours Truly, 16/1/26

[apologies to GB Shaw]

Love, on the front line,

Murdered: there for her neighbor.

Poet in motion.

Le Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh,

ag a dó dhéag a chlog,

Dé hAoine, an séú ...

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—some closeness is measured not in touch, but in the spaces we dare to share

Work spouse—HR shorthand for a lived cliché.

X-rays in long-abandoned airports read sonnets under our silk.

Yes, we learned the steps of that corporate ballet.

Zippers silently weep—damned to sulk.

As highways unbuttoned, our days lived out in lost miles.

Blouses slipped one notch—sheer fabric ...

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I triggered a dent in the pool
Because of all the coins I'd tossed, hoping they would be eaten
By the ghoul who makes wishes come true,
So he and I are both well-fed.

But my world is small and ambition boundless,
I realize, as I stare at my potential,
An arched sunbeam, a half-hearted caress,
A constant reminder seeping through the walls of my shell.

But I can't make peace with what I'...

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I open my chest like a book

Spine bending to allow this move

Both arms in use

I’m the shape of a hook

As though a hollow recess nooks

In the shelter of my wings 

But instead: colours and depth expose

Crumbs of my world escape

They’d talk for us if they could

You’re far away

Stiff, a figure from wood

Unable to reach out 

From where you’re stood 

Or even from n...

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got a lot of heart

A martial artist pained

paints the canvas
a dark red
black & blue
due to lack of oxygen

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