The Lamps of the Virgins from Bearers of the Broken Vessel At dawn, weaving through hills, go Daughters of Jerusalem in white, faces illumed by the flames of their lamps. They sing a song about lovers, become a string of dancing lights. At dawn, before babes awakened and bawled to take suckle, their mothers lit … Read more
The Continuing Story of Óglaigh na hÉireann All around the snot-nosed parishes of Ireland small people of both genders, and neither, are flapping open copies of The Sunday O’Duffy getting worried about the continued existence of the Citizen Army, Fenian Brotherhood, Official IRA. We can’t have parties who perspire to government secretly controlled by cabals … Read more
One of the main things I characterize my misspent youth by, is a knack for exploiting the trust my middle-class parents misplaced in me. At seventeen, I was too old to be dragged along with them on what seemed like monthly getaways, but too young to exercise any degree of responsibility or restraint. My folks … Read more
omeros is unforgiveable they come and they go fleeting wet bullets my bed has left me for another bed the world has lost eternity clocks are now winding towards a new paternity i wait within the ward of maternity for mother to give birth to me so that the idea of him will return https://soundcloud.com/cassandra-voices/omeros-is-unforgiveable-by-brendan-mccormack … Read more
Holding Vellum to the Light The pages of the city unfold its secrets like holding vellum to the light, a palimpsest of the past. Who walked here on sacred ground? What foundations lie under that coffee shop all birch and glass? You may see a piece of broken railing, the bronze of a sword. This … Read more
On the LUAS, she counts thirty cranes spiking the skyline. She hasn’t seen this many since 2007. The entire journey into town, she keeps her face visible; she doesn’t care who sees the scar snaking from her cheek to the bridge of her nose. Under her jacket, she grips the hunting knife, reassuringly heavy against … Read more
A poetaster’s tribute to Geoffrey Hill’s The Book of Baruch by the Gnostic Justin (2019). I heard Sir Geoffrey refer many times in his Oxford lectures (2010-2015) to our current situation as one of ‘plutocratic anarchy’. I suspect that, like many, he was fascinated and frustrated by the oxymoronic sight of ordinary, ‘common’ people persistently … Read more
Poem written in old age The light that streams across the universe Brings evidence of other worlds than ours Where midst the flux of fields and particles Eternal wisdom older than the stars Unweaves her web of possibilities The patterner experiments and plays. Bright pearls arranged according to the laws of chance Or unknown logic, … Read more
The Jehovah’s Witnesses were driving me crazy with their too-polite knocks and damnation pamphlets. Maybe they earned extra credit for early morning salvation attempts? I was always too sleepy to answer and peeked thru the peephole at their church lady hats and cheap briefcases as they walked to the curb. Martha at the hardware store … Read more
Cyprus, 1965 The lads of the 42nd Infantry Battalion sat slumped on the Land Rover’s steel floor as we lurched over dirt tracks; shade from the tarpaulin kept them cool as they spoke quietly together, in Irish. Since arriving in Cyprus, they’d spoken no other language. I knew most of them had joined up at … Read more