27 September 2010

Daughter of a son of Ireland
If earth be sonned
As spectral as a perambulating Bloom
Though unlettered as the rain
Till parish note another sinner.
Son of a daughter of exile's house
If earth itself exile
Chaste in conflagration
Seared by years
Beyond a fable's solace.
Son of no one
Daughter of herself
Earth they have that never had them
The stones cast single shadows.

17 September 2010

Death has no being to she who dies,
But a mass of bronze to the breathing,
That the last exhale in a quiet room
Lies over the sunlit day
With a metal weight,
Its daily business sudden-false,
Mis-scaled to a purpose
That was small a breath before.

07 September 2010

In medias res is human
As time and action's
By thought and hapless volition born,
By hazard breathed.
At what point is a tale if
A leaf fall and re-direct the eye?
A cry in the street summon memory?

02 September 2010

There is a perfect quality in the cricket's voice
That grammars a late summer's city to country manner
With trilled points and stops,
Commas to part and render
A hubcap, arthropod, urbantree's
Thrum as a season's hour,
A paragraph of sound.