UNION ACT
I
Tonight, a first movement, a pulse,
as if the rain to accumulate in the marsh
to break and flood, a dam bursting,
opening a gash the bed of ferns.
Your back is a firm line of eastern coast
and arms and legs
extend beyond your gradual hills. caress
the province where he grew up beating our past. I
kingdom high above your shoulders
to flatter or you can not ignore.
Conquest is a lie.
get older your bank tolerating semi-independent
within which borders now my legacy culminates
inexorable.
II
imperially am a man still
leaving for you all the pain,
the accountability process in the colony,
the ram, the barrier which operates from within.
The act sprouted an obstinate fifth column
whose stance is growing unilateral.
His heart beneath your heart is a war drum
calling for military force. Its parasitic
ignorant little fists and beat
know your boundaries and pointing me
above water. I see no treaty put
completely safe
trodden and stretching your body, the great pain
that, as an open field, leaves you raw, once more. *****
SUMMER HOUSE
I
wind Was
landfills or something in the heat
we followed the steps, with the summer souring,
and stinking incubating a nest somewhere?
Whose fault was it?, I wondered, inquisitor
owned air.
To suddenly discover
to lift the mat
had larvae, moving-
and boiling, simmering, boiling.
II
While
under the door with my arms full
wild cherry and rhododendron,
through the entrance I hear her whining
lost that, clearing his throat, tinkles
my name, again and again.
love Oh, here's to blame.
Flowers loose among us
meet,
up an altar for the month of May.
These frank and fallen blossoms
soon stained the color of a sweet balm. Assists
. Anoints the injury.
III
Oh we attended our wounds with correction under the sweetness
home and we lie as if the cold surface of a sheet
had left us breathless.
postulate more and more priests
thick, as now
when you bend in the shower
lives falling water the font of your breasts.
IV
With a final push music nothing
long grain
start to open and separate
forward and back exhausted
white , kicked
way to the heart.
V
My children mourn the Foreign warm night.
walked across the floor, my mouth was rotten
vent with you and we lie rigid until the dawn comes
the pillow, and corn, and grapes
holding full charge into the light.
rocks sang yesterday when
banged in old caves stalactites, dripping dark -
our small love calls like a tuning fork. *****
NIGHT DRIVING
everyday odors were new
in the night travel through France:
rain forests and hay in the air
warm air currents created in the open car.
poles constantly bleaching.
Montreuil, Abbeville, Beauvais
promised, promised, came and went,
each location ensuring compliance with its name.
A thresher late growled along the path seeds
bleeding through the light.
A forest fire was extinguished.
One by one small cafes closed. I
continuously in you
a thousand miles south where Italy
supports his back in France in the area obscured. Your
there was renewed everyday. *****
WEDDING DAY
I have fear.
The sound has stopped in the day
and images
repeated endlessly. Why these tears,
wild sorrow on his face
outside the taxi?
grows juice regret our guests
greeting.
After the big cake
're singing like an abandoned bride
persists, insane,
and passes through the ritual.
When I went to the toilet
had a heart with an arrow
and words of love. Let
sleep lying on your chest, the way to the airport. *****
THE METRO
There were running through the vaulted tunnels,
you fast forward, with your coat Release
and I, I then really making a god superfast
ground before you became a junk
or some new white flowers dotted with red
while savagely beating his coat and button after button
jumped and fell, leaving a trail
between the meter and the Albert Hall.
honey moon, luneando, too late for the prom,
our echoes die in that corridor and now
Hansel coming as it did on the moonlit stones
touring the path again
collecting
buttons to finish in a draughty station and light lamps
when the trains are gone, the wet way
tense as I bare all
care if your steps follow me, but dead before looking back. *****
THE MESSAGE
"Go, go now! Son, run like the devil
and tell your mother to try to find a
bubble spirit level
and a new knot for this tie. "
But still I was happy, I know, when I planted face
blaming him
with a smile that exceeded his smile and his custom jester
waiting for the next movement in the huego. *****
THE DIFFICULTY OF ENGLAND
I moved like a double agent between the concepts.
The word "enemy" had dental efficiency of a lawn mower. It was a mechanical noise and distant past that dull safety that ignorance independently.
"When the Germans bombed Belfast Orangemen were the most bitter parts which were worst hit."
I was gone to someone's shoulders, carried across the courtyard illuminated by stars to see how the sky was burning on Anahorish. The biggest let down their voices and
resettled in the kitchen as if they were tired after an outing.
After the blackout, Germany convened in the kitchen lit by lamps through cloths worn dry batteries, wet cell batteries, cables capillaries, valves offenders who squeaked and bubbled as the tuner acquitted Stuttgart and Leipzig.
"an artist, the Haw Haw. You can safely leave it inside. "
I stayed with the "enemies of Ulster", the fucking walls. Adept at black market, crossing the lines with carefully enunciated passwords, making them work
every speech in controls and did not tell anyone. *****
WEST STATIONS
On my first night in the Gaeltacht the old woman spoke in English: "You'll be fine."
I sat on the edge of a bed illuminated by the sunset, listening through the wall of an Irish
fluid, and the nostalgia of a speech that had to be removed.
had come west to inhale all the time. Visionaries blew me in the face a soup kitchen smell, mixed dust from the tombs of harvesters with saliva
fasting our creed and anointed my lips. Ephete, urge. I blushed but held only a few words.
not dropped any tongues in my days in that upper room when everyone around me seemed to prophesy. But still remember the seasons of the west, white sand, hard rock, light climbing and its definition on Rannafast and Errigal, Annaghry and Kincasslagh: names portable as altar stones, items without yeast. *****
DEATH OF A NATURALIST
Throughout the year the flax dam
oozing in the heart of town, green and heavy head
rotted linen there, crushed by huge terroirs.
Daily dripping under a blazing sun.
gurgling bubbles gently blowflies
wove a strong gauze of sound to take the smell. There was also
dragonflies, butterflies with spots,
but best of all was that hot, thick baba
frog eggs in the shade of the banks, grew like
coagulated water. Here, every spring I would fill
jam jars with jelly
spots to line up on the windowsill house,
and at school, on shelves, and wait and look
until bursting into agile fatten points
tadpoles swimmers. Mrs. Walls
tell us how the frog father was called
bullfrog croaked and how and how the mother frog
deposited hundreds of small eggs and that was
frog spittle. It also could predict the weather by frogs
they were yellow and brown sun
in the rain.
Then one hot day when fields stank
to cow dung on the grass the angry frogs
invaded the flax dam, I crossed the marshes
are crouched and not a harsh croak
heard before. The air thickened with a chorus of bass. Just
foot dam bellies fat frogs were kept on alert
terroirs, their loose necks beat like candles. Some hopped:
the slap and plop were obscene threats. Some sat
arranged like mud grenades, their bald heads farting.
I felt sick, say the turned and ran. The great kings slimy
gathered there for vengeance and I knew
if my hand got the grab him drool. *****
SIBILA
My tongue moved, a relaxing rolling hinge.
I told her, "What will become of us?"
And forgotten in a well water can be stirred
after an explosion under morning
or fracture runs through a roof,
began to speak. I
that our form itself must change. Dogs
siege. Relapse of dinosaurs. Ants.
Unless the voice to find forgiveness and nerve
unless the bleeding trees and
hull can be green and to shoot like a child's fist
and incubate magma putrid
bright nymphs ... My people think money
but talk about the weather. Calming oil wells
future as mere acquisition issues. The silence becomes
shoal echoes with the sound of throwing the trawlers.
The land to which we applied our ears for so long
is skinned and very horny, and its inner
tempted by a wicked omen.
Our island is full of noises nothing comforting. *****
A DREAM OF JEALOUSY
you and another lady walking
by a forest park, the grass whispering
ran her fingers through our silence suspect
and trees opened onto a shaded light
unexpected where we sat.
candor I think the light discouraged us.
talked about desire and be jealous,
our conversation just a loose gown
or a picnic tablecloth white
deployed as a book of manners in the wilderness.
"Show me," said our companion, "what
much I wanted, your chest mauve star."
And she consented. Oh and these verses
and my prudence, love, can heal the wound of your eyes. *****
CALL
"Wait," she said, "I'll go out and just go for it.
The weather here is so good that takes
to weed a little. "
So I saw
supported on hands and knees at the side of the rake,
touching, inspecting,
separating a stem of the other, gently pulling everything
not narrowed, fragile and without leaves,
pleased to feel how it opened each root of weeds, but also
sorry ...
Then I found myself listening
the broad and severe tic input clocks
where the phone was unattended in a quiet
pendulum mirror and illuminated by the sun ...
and then I found myself thinking: if it were today,
is how anyone would call Death.
Then he spoke and I almost said I loved him.
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