A wounded otter,
A zippo lighter,
Balmy as summer. It won't last.
Captain Fox sits reading metaphysics.
Consider the sea.
Consider a coral or guano atoll.
Didn't he ramble?
Driving the perfect length of
Even now I wish that you had been there.
Fancy meeting you out here on the desert!
Faoi mar a bheadh leon cuthaigh no tarbh fasaigh!
Gene sat on a rock, dangling our map.
God, you could grow to love it.
His father gave him a box of truisms.
Horse Boyle was called Horse Boyle because of his brother Mule.
I am Alice of Daphne, and my heart clogs for John Pounden.
I was making my way home late one night;
In the first taxi he was alone tra-la.
I stop to consult my diary and think how queer.
Join me in celebrating
Just there, in the corner of the whin-field
Like dolmens round my childhood, the old people.
My window shook all night in Camden town;
My world has been laid low, and the wind blows,
Now that the men have gone off to the choleric wars.
O country people,
O country people, you of the hill farms,
Our youth was gay but rough:
Passing through,
Pulling up flax.
Quick, woman, in your net,
Remember summer when God turned on the heat.
Someone else cut off my head.
Something is pushing against my blood.
So you are married, girl. It makes me sad.
The barman vaulted the counter.
The black fox loped out of the hills.
The rain comes flapping through the yard,
The spaceship drifting up,
The thing not done,
The tide gone out for good.
Was it a vision or a waking dream?
Was it wind off the dumps?
We approached the shore. Once more
We broke out of our dream into a clearing.
We left the western island to live among strangers.
What haunts me is a farmhouse among trees.