It's easy to persuade the mind
But the heart is forever

Eyes grace the celestial mechanics that
scatter our skies with glittering objects
alive with humming ancient materials.
Down here Man can't see deeply enough
into the skies so brimming with beauty
that he forgets to marvel at the above.
Although the ground is rich with earth
so delightful and thriving with life so pure,
so simple it is to focus solely on the crust.
What objects and footprints grace our ground
and with what items they hold in their hands
is not so important when looking from clouds.
Precious and selfish, pathetic and cruel can't
do justice for the description of Man
and tracing the stars should help one think.
Think with the mind and not with the eyes,
there is far too much that hasn't been seen
yet by curious, clever, keen minds.

The **** on the steeple
Proclaimed and denied to
Four corners, looked down,
And twisted.
Old men in green suits with crow's eyes
And alabaster covered bones push open doors
With wooden feet.
The postman, empty-kneed, rides his Deere
Over green fields with rabbits,
Laughing to himself.
Rentals in drives plan the day's jaunts
To ****** or Kenmare.
Shops carry faded signs:
Donovan, O'Sullivan, Finnegan.

The crow drops on the roof of Holy Cross
Which doubles as a retirement home;
Its clients plaint palms skyward with the wind.

Five hundred leave each week:
          "Ireland's best... so fresh it's famous."

The laggers serve tea and scones,
Or ply in shops they may someday own.
There are no slow boats here.
The green suits leave naturally,
Others by air.
This is no country for the young
With their hillside tilting windmills of power.

Below, a young woman eats, holding
Her knife like her father, eating,
Silent, staring.
Crow and rabbit inhabit,
Stones tumble and lay for a hundred years.

Each day a new apocalypse offering
One opening. No wrappings,
No ointments, no fresh water.
No throne to approach, no voice calling
Them home.
No seventh son to dip his finger in the well
And soothe.

In Somnia
     We don't sleep at night
So we tend to dream in the day
   Never fully knowing
If we're ever fully awake

Today
   I felt an earth quake
And it made my life shake
  & I wondered
        Is this
    My
      wake?

I heard whispers
    On the wind
Of a tornado
    As it spinned
& I pondered
   Are these my sins

A tsunami
    Came on me
And it calmed me
   As it thundered
& I wondered
   Am I really
A
   W
       A
           K
               E

           In Somnia
   We can't sleep at night
So we tend to dream in the day
  Never fully knowing
If we're ever fully awake