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The cure
Hours and days In arrested daze Induced some hitherto-glueshut effusive In shooting, rooting May’s replacement A statue living on the fumes of stale praise Long idle, at apathy’s sanction Can find with time ample pride even in rust I want us To smash all the idols That we might Bridle the dust. The tide can…
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Wading moonvision
So bright one might Think anointed king’s coins Upon one’s lidded eyes foist; The choiceless moon Spoon hued, lullaby-voiced Melted spatula silver Her thrilling vernacular was live magic spectacular, delivered perfectly Judged earnestly, with the quick and enviable courtesy of a Pericles. Exaggerated, vernal, purple-saturated, speculum cold, and infernal Always-told the tale she lived; nailed…
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Sunishment
How cruelly blazes the lazymaking sun upon wayward sons Built for throwing haymakers, one armed bail tossers While the sun shines the Irish will make hay, bossless But they will do anything asked if the demander sounds a toff Called tossers at home, here we are credited as workers to bone Foam’s deadly toss; the…
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Ripped bed
Though I, like Edward Carson, preached and prayed That they would together stay, the frayed skins I intended to employ in the beginnings of a joint Refused to appoint themselves gracefully, lick-anointed Like anthrax letters to all the badly behaved boys in Texas. She cat stretches a cataleptic’s spine Inducing a crack with falling rock…
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Where, the humming congregants?
The nascent vibration of what this place was In days of greater station. A place of greater safety Relief to the chased Relief to the chaste Released fro the grace. Gated now, its congregation negated by entertainment The games quell rebellion, as they are made to do. A more palatable upending, live tonight on BBC2.
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