a poem is a sermon
Oh Paddy, oh Paddy! Long have you and I held difference perspectives, not seen eye to eye, nor found much in common, through legend or faith, or some shared experience wrangling with wraiths. I wonder, St. Patrick; and wonder makes doubt: disabling sureness of what one’s about. Is that what’s called “testing” or “trials” in […]
If the Germans could laugh like the Irish, reckless, deep in drunken ambrosial seas, walking wandering paths, their cracked looking-glasses on open hearths (these are the holy fools) If the Irish could laugh like the Germans, deep and still like endless speech-lost oceans, climbing somber mountains, their rise and fall engineered by the night (these […]
Continue reading "If the Germans Could Laugh Like the Irish"
I won’t march in your drunken green parades, nor think of your name when I spy clover; I’m tired of these cruel lies and the charades – it won’t be my eyes your wool pulls over. For I am of the breed of snakes you fought and drove from Erin’s shores in ignorance, when with […]