POETRY ARCHIVE

MARCH 2026

He sweats onto the grass. When he bares / the teeth of traps, fresh shoots ask:

 / “why do you know so well how / little things die?”

MARCH 2026

I’m not sure if I’m angrier it was for her or / that you spent money we needed for our / electric and internet bills

MARCH 2026

Why can’t the years / call back / to say hello / how are you / you are missed

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.