Tag: war poems
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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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World on the March
From the vantage of a top window I watch khaki ants vanish Factions action bound make passage Leaving in jolly batches, in patchwork and motley Returning in patch and blood-blotted bandage Hand in hand the gas damaged living in the land of Nod Distant action A sense of traction, of freefall Inked names suffer no…
Alchemisland 