Take me to Éire Please take me to Erin For I am twenty-seven; Reassurance I am in my prime Dwindle in the idle time. So take me to Erin when I am ready, When the everywhere that I have been Weighs like waves upon me. Let me meet her in the pause of night, When … Read more
Fragments of a Litany Gaza, 2023-24 Grieve with the butchered gods of love for Layan al-Baz, the young, the strong, her soft arms cut by shrapnel, her wounded leg a stump. May the world record unquietly the wordless eyes of Abdul, of Kenza, and Karam – who buried their mothers in a barren yard. And … Read more
Psalm The light and the wind on the water these wild winter days are breath of it The cardinal sun below cumulus flaring up skybeams a pulse Gathers the gloom but high in the east celestial moon unhides behind heart-racing clouds All in the arms of physics and this is heaven we are blessed to … Read more
A Poem for Refaat Alareer In the poem your butchers fear to breathe, the murdered nurseries are clean, the brimming table-top restored – your every room aflush with idleness again, a bowl of flying spices near to hand, the oven-bread uplifted through the haze: a feast the windy air will sing from the open-hearted balcony … Read more
No Record of Wrongs Love does keep a record of some things— your solitary walks in Coln Saint Aldwyn’s, a precise curl of Virginia Creeper tendrils, vermillion in autumn, the way you carefully smelled horses’ necks beneath the mane back home, velveteen crushes of cornhusks lashed to lampposts Love notes you’ve yet to find a … Read more
How I Remember Her I glared that first night as she vaunted perks And spoke in winding roads; uncouth she pried About my grade and cut. Around her stride, I feel as though I’m drunk. I miss her quirks. The nights we stargaze drag on. I should work. I see her down the bar, then … Read more
A Partial Epitaph My friend, with many an article and book saved in the Cloud, would censure Robert Emmet for attitudinising in the dock. We’re most of us the beneficiaries of ordered states; opinion-formers wanting Emmet stopped is something that one sees. But this rant? Picture him in middle age, pardoned, respectable, like Thomas Moore … Read more
Hope in Despair I have always loved museums, no doubt having a kind of prophetic disposition I realised the somewhat terrible and prodigious potency that was entombed in their almost sterile yet paradoxically life-affirming grace. Loss, chronic loss, is the ultimate domain of all humans. It seems to me that the problems here below on … Read more
Poets may be divided into three types: those of us who must be and are, or have been, suppressed, at least until after we are dead; those whose subject matter is so commonplace/banal that it doesn’t matter either way; and then those who become pure decorations of the Regime. One key qualification for a poet … Read more
Advent We have endured long in the dark. It is a burden (A magic? A madness?) particular To us. Long endurance of darkness is not light, But speaks of a belief that light’s radiance Merits enduring long in the dim we know— In the dusk we are. The world is a bone Full of Christ-marrow; … Read more