Final Observation 1 There is no death for memories as long as they can be turned to stories 2 skin turns to things just recalled write down this which sticks out amidst ethers of numbness and forgetting sparks falling into... Continue Reading →
Our Old Man at the Piano Last year they put a piano in the Dartmouth ferry terminal. It is often left alone. It is often used by amateurs. However, there is a childsized man in his late 50s, early 60s,... Continue Reading →
Funeral Sandwiches It comes down to the ceremony now, the detail. Pressing your shirt with the cutaway collar, not too much starch, the way you liked it. I sent the shoes that were a bit small, but they were so... Continue Reading →
You’ll Go She tells you grace is boring And you believe her Because her mouth moves like foreign language. So, grace must be boring. She believes in things Like the beautiful corpse And that people with mortgages are boring; Like... Continue Reading →
Going home going home following a path written by parallel lines of scented pinkish flowers another galaxy above ours small oriental boats floating on the river of despair I sit on the edge letting my bare feet float along and... Continue Reading →
By The Time I Got To Dublin By the time I got to Dublin, they swept glass bottles from avenue, the cars sat sensibly across the round-about, the clenched fists of '16, of '09 faded from view, their names as... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 