Poems from UisceBeatha04
I am the irony. I am a poet left with no words to say, delighting in the loneliness, the sovereignty, of afternoon walks; of music and chocolate; of small dark places and inner peace. You may take me for what I am: American by birth, Cuban by blood, Irish by affinity. Christian, writer, daughter, sheerio, student, artist, dancer... amateur at life.
i. Nunitus
He stroked the concavities
Of the moon
Like no one ever had before,
Fascinating her with
Mercury
And clockwork...
So like...
You could have told me
Somewhere between five and fifteen
That I was tying my laces wrong.
But I know you'll never read this
Because...
i. spirare
before i knew blindness
like this
comely
rhythmic
and mournful
caring
only for the
pulse
for the drum
the drummer
bodhran
i...
All along, he was memorizing Handel
The way he taught himself to worship
Fullness, Alberti bass...
That perfect
Wrong chord with one too...
i tripped today,
somewhere
between the road and paddy's grave,
alone in the thickets and dusky heather,
and in the silken
morning fog.
...