POETRY ARCHIVE

MARCH 2026

{ I am the lone bird tied up: / the kite in kite strings / the falcon in chicken wire / beating, bating, waiting for someone to notice me / the ticker banging away while the thinker / screams }

FEBRUARY 2026

This is how belonging works: 

 hands understand 

 what minds forget.

FEBRUARY 2026

Old men attired in yellow wool sweaters, / yellow wool to play golf in. / Older hunchbacks pushing shuffleboard / with the tempo of a film in slow motion.

FEBRUARY 2026

Alone, under a pointillist sky. / Gulls flying around me. / Black waters tinted by / stars of vague prophecy.

FEBRUARY 2026

I leave Cork before the sun rises / no map, no plan / just the motor’s steady snarl / the road unwinding like a dare

JANUARY 2026

my body belonged to a land / it didn't know existed / until i heard her lilting voice, / rising from the waves

JANUARY 2026

In the eighties her mother / raised her right: put her in / piano classes. Pinched her sides / when she made mud pies.

JANUARY 2026

You’re sitting beside a murderer. / He’s reading a tear-stained newspaper. / There’s blood in his hair, / a red hand turning to the comic pages.

JANUARY 2026

I’m tired. Well, weary.

I’m always tired so I guess that’s redundant.

DECEMBER 2025

If I stare through binoculars,

will I see the future

closer than it really is?