Inside the darkest garden
in this castle of
roots and knots
                  with ancient shadows
                      that come out to dance
                         in consistent moonlit thoughts
where my body starts
                     to swirl and sway
                     my spirit stirring free
inside the bones of
                underground caverns
where I have found
the once –buried remnants
           of me
Here.      
Antiquated magic
            is rediscovered              
next to dark-aged
weapons of layered rust
in the ghosts of the tears
of the collapsing fears
           that quaked the bridges of trust
where the unlikely
traces of self-love
never did really die
and despair in its
quiet torrents
prepares to release and fly
        
Here.          
I embrace the night
               in its fullness,
drink it up
          like temple wine
accepting all the dark within me
letting its light fill me
in vibrations,
              divine
In most scintillating strength,
my inner swords enhanced
in sharpness,
                in potent length
before my armies
                       advance

Here,              
in wild mossy corners
the blackest of berries grow
round and perfect, on
the edge
                     of bursting
revealed only to those who know
that clandestine language
of echoes of loneliness
that wander breathlessly
                           and roam
clutching their essence
                           to hold it safe
over the soil and loam
Now minerals sparkle in the
                       rich, dark earth
atoms of crystal
and stone

Here.
In this darkest
oasis of seeming nothingness
glows a
      single tree
bearing the juiciest
        of fruits
    now dripping
  just for me
and as my hunger
pours up
from the roots
propelling me in sacred trance
I find myself
gazing up in wonder
letting down
          my warrior stance

I slowly take off my armor
freeing up the fullness
of *******, of thighs, of hips
to allow that emotional
         fruit liquid
to nourish me from
core to fingertips
and to catch that ripeness
     about to spill
goddess voices calling
"Yes, woman. Now"
I, with reverence
     with honor
take on that sacred vow
tip back my head
let the quartz-snapped
air into my lungs
let that liquid
slake my ache
and,
in moaning silence
grace my
     tongue

I'm so far inside myself
Starting to feel like someone else
Getting lost in the dreams
Of the girl in mirror
That I can no longer see
She's beginning to scare me
And it seems like my mind
Is her favorite flavor of coffee
She drinks up my thoughts
And gets a rush of energy
All I can feel for her is envy
Yet, she's supposed to be inspiring
And me? I'm practically dying
Just waiting for the mood to strike
Finding the right music to surround me
It's tiring and
I've been living life so patiently
Feeling like
It's starting to get to me
Breaking the mirror inside my eyes
Does nothing
Neither does smoking out my mind
She just seems to soak it all in
Breathing in the fumes of my coffee
Giving me nothing but an empty space
And my face
Is just her face, minus the evil grin
I can't even begin
My muse is addicted
Trying to get her on the mend
Find the fix she needs
So this beginning
Doesn't start with the end

Here is the city—
its worn-down mountains,
its grass and iron,
its smoky coast
seen from the high roads
on the Wicklow side.

From Dalkey Island
to the North Wall,
to the blue distance seizing its perimeter,
its old divisions are deep within it.

And in me also.
And always will be.

Out of my mouth they come:
The spurred and booted garrisons.
The men and women
they dispossessed.

What is a colony
if not the brutal truth
that when we speak
the graves open.

And the dead walk?

I met the devil on the razor edge of Pembroke and Third
While the corner cafe stealthily sold me hunger
In the scent of overburnt croissants and coffee spills.

You've got flecks of him in your eyes, you know,
They're the color of an impassioned yellow sky,
And your mouth froths a bit like boiling water.

And your laugh barks like a mangy dog
That's found another final meal
In a pool of scraps and pigeon blood.

The ground is too flat here, and the world too grey.
The wind whistles too loud and cars
Are leaving me behind in too much of a hurry.

But this is just a stop, just a chance meeting
With another glimpse of the devil
Until the bus unfreezes time in this toy town.

Until I can hide with the rats in the darkest
Corners of buggy bright lights
And share a bed with another devil in another station.

your scent is draped around my room
like fairy lights, my love;
they shine as bright as stars at night (how
darkness makes faint lights shine bright)
as bright as sun above.
remember how my skin would glow
in early morning haze?
reflecting off your sunlight heat
(your skin like cigarette smoke, sweet)
upon me you would gaze
and, like a gazania daisy,
i opened up to you (oh all
the things i told you
i think i must have told you
everything)
and now without your sunlight i
close up like daisies do.
my lips still taste your lips, though,
my hands still hold your hands;
my fingers close around themselves-
(i’m closing in upon myself
oh god, why aren’t you here to hold me?
i’m falling through like sand
into the bottom of
an hourglass)
i walk through these strange lands
(alone.)

I am an astronaut
Not because I trained for years
In high-tech NASA facilities
Not because I'm a peak physical specimen
Endurance tested
Intelligence too
I am an astronaut
And its a reason as simple as this
I made someone my world
And then she left me

I am an astronaut
And right now I'm drifting through space
I can see the stars
I just can't reach them

I’ve got dials in my head, clicking like a winding down timer
While I'm finding a channel that isn’t just static
Or a faded children's primer, illegible and bleeding its ink
Like its supposed to be tragic or the ***** Dozen
Resting in the kitchen sink; reduced to vegetables after
An overtly silent war on the terror of omniscient pesticides.
We're the violent, thirsty poor and we're the weeds thrusting
Our roots through drunken misdeeds with the staying power
Of a half-decayed pursuit scrawled in the margins
Of a faded children's primer, illegible and bleeding its ink
Till it sprawls off the page into gin-fueled wishes
And rage till it's only me again, fighting dials and static,
Supposing that I can't be mended as I light another match
And wait for the commercials to end.

Yellow lights turn red
and ten thousand times a day
the children whisper lies
they've heard over and over
from the adults in their lives
countless times.

Don't cover your face,
it's hard working for tips
without those painted lips
but the children will grow
in this infantile life
without ever knowing
the truth behind those
beautiful lies.

All this and more
is found shrouded in
a brief amber light
turning to crimson.

You are here* the words on the map read,
And they must be right, you tell yourself they must be right,
Because if they aren't,
Then you aren't anywhere.

Your eyes reflect into mine and then back into yours,
And all you see is swirling fear as you wonder,
Wonder what you'll find.
Wonder what you're searching for.

You are here the words on the map read,
The words on the map show a red dot,
But you aren't a red dot.
There must be some mistake.

In the back of your mind, you wonder,
Wonder how a body can see stars in your eyes
If they blot out the sky peering in.
A solar eclipse of the soul.

You meet my eyes again and wonder,
Wonder how we got here,
Wonder if we're really here
Simply because the map says we are.

Your eyes reflect mine and mine reflect yours
And if someone were to take a picture,
Our eyes would shine red,
Red like the dots on the map.

Our eyes do not reflect the stars and
They do not reflect our souls,
They are anchors between us, you and I,
They remind us.

Remind us we are here

And we are alive.