I miss when looking at a photo of you
felt like butterflies,
not a blade in my stomach.

No one had ever expanded their image of me
beyond a body
until you did.

Now your memory is stitched
into my favourite beach,
my favourite walk.

I fell foolishly,
clinging to your aloof endearments,
mistaking distance for depth.

You said you would meet me in the rain,
but you couldn’t even m...

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“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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Eyes open to see but for what?

Four blank walls and weighted lids and

The same old places as when we were kids

Only the weather changes their faces

From grey to green and the footpath traces

The same familiar routes

The mud that covers my boots

Is dry but not scrubbed away

They’ll just get dirty again anyway

It is no sight at all.

Hands reach out to touch but for...

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I’d hate to sit with the poets

their laughter arrives

a second before the silence

something in them stays seated

unmoved

while the rest pretends to live

they carry whole winters

under light conversation

hands steady

eyes elsewhere

pain is taught patience

it waits

I’d hate to sit with the poets

because the page knows

what the room is spa...

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The merchant rises before the dawn

And sees the darkness fading

For another day of trading

An existence so degrading

In its repetitious gloom

And soon it will be time to start

The grinding shift, its end so far

Away from where the two arms stand

Into the strand and down the hall

Up the escalator to the end of the mall

And the sliding doors, they open wide

The hungr...

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The seams split from the land to the sea

And dreams of still waters die

The lie of open arms disintegrates

In the slither of the lullaby 

Of reasons and rhymes set to rock us to sleep

But sheep are aimless in a boundless heath

And see no route so dreaded fate ensues 

As the ocean follows the moon

And soon we’ll all be keeping score

Strike one and two, strike three and fo...

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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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