Poems, Shadows at the Gate
Just when I have it by heart: that hip-swell of hill curving into Barr na ghaoith, Top off the Wind; each rolled smooth stippled stone of Boatharbour and Drimmeen beach; the stormy head of bay at Ceann Dólainn its sandy flesh ripe peach in the warm afternoon light; a...
Poems, Shadows at the Gate
Someone is tonguing the honeycomb of my spine, while I walk, while I sleep. With no familiar name like Age or Death, unknown, unexpected he has burgled access, and with his acid kiss, takes it on his lips like sherbet, fizzing to nothing. I didn’t know to be...
