Month: Jul 2024
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Inner City Oldtime
Our own tongue throat stranger And failing to nourish will or may perish We pause, wishing to answer betters in Irish Cannot know a lost language Vanishes, we answer in English Less than swill of which our Liffey consists. What is Irishness What is native wit? Slack jaws guffawing Slenting houses built from haunted bricks…
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New jungles
Machete in the busy sweaty wrist of a muscle-riven junglist Horse-hung statues riderless, unbridled Our guide won’t stop keeps chopping Frightful jungle corridor alive with raw stingers Dangers for those who linger Concourse of unseen watchers like a haunting, Amazons reborn Self-highting Brides of Spite crudely bedight with breast bared uncaringly If they ride down…
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Last left living
I’ve got racks and bands racks and bands Livestrong bracelets outlive the land After the nukes land Whose hand shadowed the burgundy button Land sliding to inhuman climes Life cannot sustain, lung-raping acid rains It’s only cockroaches and plastic bands from Athenry to Atlanta Unmoving city full of noises, pie full of phantoms When do…