Austerity for the Masses!

2012-02-14T16:30:00.000Z

2012-02-02T07:20:00.001Z

2012-01-21T12:02:00.000Z

2012-01-14T17:30:00.000Z

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2011-12-26T19:24:00.000Z

2011-12-20T11:07:00.000Z

2011-11-24T08:51:00.000Z

Saint Patrick salutes me with his cigarette

-- He's just been to his auntie's funeral in Crumlin,

"and I'm awful cold tonight, Darragh".

Short of the bus fare back to Armagh, he's

following a lead from a friend near the station.

Splitting the difference, we make our way towards

Trinity, and when the holy man considers

another banishment I remind him of a latter-day,

ersatz saint who told me to feck back off to Romania…

His eyes are so clear and bright he can see those

snakes and the irony of infinite mercy, then

"D'you know, sometimes, I wish

I were still captive..."

He leaves me at College Green, shouting his

benediction from across the street --

"Happy Thanksgiving! Happy Thanksgiving, Darragh!"

2011-10-24T15:48:00.000Z

2011-10-01T15:16:00.000Z

2011-09-08T17:54:00.000Z

2011-08-30T16:45:00.000Z

2011-08-23T20:29:00.000Z

2011-08-20T08:40:00.000Z

2011-08-11T10:12:00.001Z

that Poudre Canyon campfire --

4400 miles to the west and

8400 feet up --

is finally extinguished in the

Dublin rain

2011-08-10T16:24:00.000Z

2011-05-30T20:35:00.000Z

2011-05-25T05:42:00.000Z

2011-05-07T14:21:00.000Z

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2011-04-01T15:56:00.000Z

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2011-02-17T21:49:00.000Z

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2011-02-04T16:31:00.000Z

2011-02-01T21:31:00.000Z

2011-01-25T17:52:00.000Z

2011-01-21T20:48:00.001Z

2011-01-18T17:27:00.000Z

2011-01-14T17:27:00.001Z

2011-01-10T15:53:00.000Z

2011-01-07T19:33:00.000Z

2010-12-22T22:56:00.000Z

2010-12-19T21:17:00.000Z

2010-12-16T22:46:00.000Z

2010-12-15T15:56:00.000Z

2010-12-04T21:54:00.000Z

i've been thinking about knocking my teeth

out;

make manifest the significance of this dog's bark.

the only other option

as i can see it is:

well,

you'd better look out.

2010-11-23T19:31:00.001Z

Walking where winter is rain

I talk to my boots from now until April

2010-11-14T21:43:00.000Z

2010-10-29T17:52:00.000Z

2010-10-27T21:16:00.000Z

2010-10-25T19:48:00.000Z

2010-10-11T16:56:00.001Z

2010-10-04T16:42:00.000Z

2010-10-01T18:20:00.000Z

two thousand ten:

philosophy is finally dead,

having outlived true sailing

by forty years or so.

-- and God by six generations.

Elvis sings from the cab of a Cat,

digging the dark autumn earth.

2010-09-24T22:29:00.000Z

Heading up from San Jose for a visit, just before the jīn shān was played out

2010-09-22T09:44:00.003Z

Go Eight-eighty North (Oakland)

to Two-sixtytwo, Mission Boulevard

-- after Dixon Landing --

To Six-eighty North (Sacramento) to

the Concord area, Two-fortytwo.

Then off at Olivera (a right, or roughly East),

cross Port Chicago -- big --

quick left on Dormer -- small --

then four blocks…

and right on Saratoga.

2010-09-08T16:44:00.000Z

2010-08-31T16:59:00.000Z

2010-08-27T17:56:00.000Z

2010-08-22T20:27:00.000Z

2010-08-17T11:31:00.000Z

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2010-07-07T09:15:00.000Z

2010-07-04T11:40:00.000Z

2010-07-02T11:54:00.000Z

2010-06-28T09:07:00.000Z

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2010-06-20T17:04:00.000Z

2010-06-17T06:25:00.000Z

2010-06-16T11:42:00.001Z

2010-06-04T20:36:00.001Z

black bloom

brews euphemistically,

moves you through lilac suburbs

2010-05-28T11:22:00.000Z

2010-05-26T22:32:00.001Z

2010-05-08T10:36:00.000Z

2010-05-06T10:38:00.000Z

2010-05-05T12:22:00.000Z

2010-04-22T09:27:00.000Z

Far icy mountain

erupts a tranquility:

blue unfurrow'd field

2010-04-03T11:33:00.000Z

2010-03-25T12:06:00.000Z

2010-03-21T18:52:00.000Z

2010-01-12T10:10:00.000Z

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2010-01-04T13:46:00.000Z

2009-12-26T20:19:00.000Z

2009-12-14T14:44:00.000Z

2009-12-07T12:25:00.001Z

black sulphur mud sands

up past Booterstown station --

hooded crows assess the bay's debris

A late Sunday afternoon at O'Rourke's

2009-12-02T12:04:00.002Z

... proving her point

Pete says he loves his pills,

does a little play

denying he's a mess

All to -- or for? -- the amusement

of the tut-tutters:

their conversations

now elliptical theater too.

2009-11-17T15:58:00.000Z

2009-11-05T16:41:00.002Z

last night's descent
was all marble-cool blue water.
today's dry-eyed vision
is a rising white feather, and i
stir it back into my black
coffee.

2009-10-26T16:11:00.000Z

2009-09-18T17:00:00.000Z

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2009-08-28T17:32:00.000Z

2009-07-08T17:25:00.001Z

I've stopped coming to you, Sea.
Your implacable face always
gives the same austere counsel:
every true thing is hidden,
or will be.

2009-06-30T18:00:00.000Z

2009-06-02T22:09:00.000Z

2009-05-07T19:44:00.000Z

2009-04-29T09:20:00.000Z

2009-04-15T10:18:00.000Z

2009-03-24T07:09:00.000Z

Vignettes I

2009-02-26T11:40:00.002Z

There is a man furtively trimming
branches off his neighbor's shrub;
branches that stick-out a bit in
front of his gate, probably
COMING just this close (if not actually
brushing) his car’s -- he's the kind
who waxes and shines his car, and
stretches a sort of whole-car-bra
over it (his car) when he's away
from it for more than a couple of
days (which gives a clue, maybe,
to any attentive potential burglar
or car-thief as to the unoccupied-
ness of his house) – painstakingly
maintained paint-work. Though
the paint is immaculate, you can
tell from it alone that the car is not
the latest model; that is, whatever
your lack (or otherwise) of familiarity
with the stylistic evolution of the
Polo, the car is a green from the
days when color photographs were
printed on paper and kept in book-
like albums, or more commonly, in
the little paper folders with a
pocket in front for holding the
"negatives": those black and deep
(nearly as deep as the black) amber/
orange plastic strips of ghostly
miniature images of your 4X6es, and
stashed somewhere at the top
of the closet or under the bed, to
be dug-out and "gone-through" when
you're moving away from home,
never to return (you) with any
enthusiasm or happy memories,
except for those preserved on the
photos you didn't throw away (and
now, though, they're happy-tinged-
with-sadness: almost so tinged that
they're really sad-tinged-with-dim-
wistfulness memories) – which
photos have become themselves,
like your faded memories and this
man's Polo that must absolutely NOT
be touched by that shrub, faded. But
this gives you pause: is it that the car's
green is from another era -- like your
eyeglasses – or is it just faded? Is it,
i.e., a color of a different kind from the
greens of today's cars, or has it ceased
to be an accurate picture of the car's
color when the car was new? But then,
what about your memories?

2009-01-11T23:27:00.000Z

2008-11-26T13:09:00.001Z

2008-11-10T18:30:00.000Z

standing o'er the laptop
the kitchen warmest in winter
i eat yesterday's
cold take-away

2008-10-28T15:38:00.000Z