Small shite it grows in the light a forest of green in a bucket of skyfe twisting onward and upward… Read more The arborist’s first grandchild (one in, one out)
Tag: berrigan
Fences
Stitches seep across burnt skinwounds that weep ounce sewing pinssinew shapes turn sutured tracksalong yellow shoulders, down purple back Green… Read more Fences
Cleaver
Split toes crumbling, crack, as the body rots appendages are the first to go Lepered flowers snap, under bruised leather… Read more Cleaver
Tripping spider dreams
Tripping, spinning, snapping mandibles grip at the turning cylinder githout success, pincers rubbed raw, begin to smell A hundred eyes… Read more Tripping spider dreams
Race Day
It wasn’t that long ago, you could smell it, coating the breeze in a fine oil varnish It sat on… Read more Race Day
Tighearnan John Kelly 