Tuesday, January 09, 2007

I'm prolific.. or something.


candles flicker on the floor
a labyrinth of smoke climbs upward
to the dark recesses of the air
footsteps echo off the arches unheard
the faces of the damned and saved

in such an abyss the air is holy
a sacred silence hangs here
father pray sincere austere
his lips mouth the sacred words slowly
savoring his savior

this cave empty and austere
will fill with the his lips
empty and cold

'JP 1'

beneath this skin
are bones and blood
sinews entwined over organs
and tiny cells whose only purpose
is to make you able to
sit between my arms
nestled in the nape
of my long neck
and in the half light
I marvel at your making
and how you will leave me undone


Roaring voices straining to speak
above the saturated air
silently my eyes travel the
solid horizon of your chin
and rest in the cave of your collar
as accidentally my hand
brushes your arm with
Guinness given courage

'For the Fiddler in Tis Coili, Ronan'

Never do your fingers falter
dancing across the lines
carved into flesh and air
diamonds shine on your cheek
furnished in the fire of your fingertips
glistening next to eyes closed
pressed against the wood
your claddagh offers a heart
reaching out as you bow
lost in the space between sounds

'Keiran, the Dancer'

dizzy drunk dancing
twirls around a dark haired man
eyes shine lips smile
Guinness Mistress
we move to rhythm
neon lights reflect off my glasses
showing your face
myself dancing in your pupils
surrounded by an iris of neon

'NYE morning'

globes of illumination dance on the horizon
faeries dotting the
shrouded in
subtle splendor sloping softly
calling you home

'Response to Mr. Rosal'

Mr. Rosal
fingers passing through the dog eared
volume of your days
I rediscovered the ink
you had written on the title page

Forgive me, I thought it absurd
at the time
to tell you what I aspired
and your blessing seemed polite at best

yet two years
six hundred seventy circles
your words comfort my anxious
aspirations (alliteration)
and I feel sincerely
that your quickly scrambled letters
are genuine
and I wonder
did you ever touch that basque nose?
did you ever lose yourself along a divine axis?

I've been calculating and speculating
about the same denominator
but I've never been good with numbers
still, I feel that our paths
will coincide tangentally
and I thank you for your kind words

'The Last Day'

Blue blanket draped coolly against
the white porcelain that is my stomach
I can hear you moving about
muffled footsteps and objects scraping
through the white wall between us

draped elegantly, the line of my spine
is captivating below the curves of my shoulders
behind my sight, yet out of yours
surrounded by steam and streaming
water trickling over your masculine lines
the sound of your collarbone
that my fingertips bring to mind

your mind has raced forward
designing the outline of your schedule
do you savor your shower?
If I was bolder, I would be there
licking the metallic water off the soft
sensual skin at the base of your neck

the door opens and lazily let my eye I
linger on you
throw on a shirt startched stiff
glare at the clock and scoff
at my indolence

my lips swivel upward
curving a secret truth
as your mind raced forward
mechanically preparing
your pursed lips are swollen from mine

'Breakfast Poem'

through the floor voices tumble
timbres tangling through the boards
the sizzzling smell of bacon
dances across my senses

'Consumation breeds Creation'

Half light shows a half face
water tocks as it trickles over glass
somewhere a distant creak
voices muffled through plaster

stolen time, shadow time
silly feeling sullen so
breaths and gasps echo
Give it to her, man.
if I must hear your bodies slam at the vertex
at least make it good.

Yellow floor surrounded by black
my pen extends
its shadow meets it and together they write
connected at a primordial vertex.

'The Last of York'

snow lined branches
hang like a layered gown
the world dressed like a bride
virgin sacred white eternal
I dare not step for fear
of ending the stillness
Yet I can not linger in peace

My breath joins the air
oxygen that filled my lungs
dances with the softly falling
as I mar the blank landscape
with my passing

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Ireland is doing good things to your poetry.