MAY HAS COME AGAIN


A Moment’s Notice*
I turn to Stephen and ask very seriously “Is there anyone to fall in love with in this godforsaken land?”Somehow having passed the point of opposition – with emphasis and a wry smile on his face – none of us anywhere near coy – “No I actually don’t think there is”Sophie and Anna laugh. Isaac laughs hearing the story and even more so telling it to someone else. We are sitting on a balcony held in the night sky with some reason for being where we are being. It is a strange land but so many lands are strange to those who call the golden suburbs home. The sea sits around the golden suburbs – I wake up early to beat the bloating sacks of ignorance to the shore where they walk because everyone else does. I walk there because I walk there - there is life on so may levels when they are not pumping shit into the water – it is the only place I know to call home. Moving from a station platform empty and expecting through thresholds onto a slanted plane of boulders and poured concrete – walking on the steep angle makes you very aware of walking really walking, some of the boulders are slimy and slippy and the sea has regained its turquoise clarity – no rain no need to pump shit into the sea they say I don’t dare to return during the day because the bloating sacks of ignorance harm my energy field – I am greater than them but still I must be careful – across the bay there is a life force of grave propensity it shudders glowing great beauty and love and also resentment I need it and adore it and also wish of its death – so is the nature of the sea and the shoreline Swimming in rivers is quite different – you must follow them as song lines and see where they bring you – oceans swallow you whole and immediately when dunked you are lost in an entirely different universe I want my skin to turn more and more golden brown I do I do but on each occassion I want more to sit in a hoodie with the hood up safe and warm and close - There is chaos in the hearts of little children, as the machine grows the chaos dies -and there is quiet at the heart of it all – quiet grass back and forth in invisible winds quiet seaweed playing in invisible currents quiet quiet quiet when the chaos comesobject concentration / the world empties / I see only what I saw before /a train to the astroplane it is a night train though and you can’t see much and oh we are here arrived on a strange land – we used to talk about growing oldtogether but not like this not like this –“No I actually don’t think there is”

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Possessions*
Infinite amounts of bloating sacks of ignorance uniformed AIRPODS / DRYROBES loitering – sensitive energy fields hah hah hah it’s just funny I don’t actually mind – can’t explain it I guess its just my energy field HATES them I thought this was sacred - I thought that when I took off all my clothes and stood so ready to meet the sea you would understand – but its unexplainable still tremors tremors tremors are you the mermaid with oh so long hair looking over sailors on the high seas disappearing / swallowing / disappearing / swallowing / swallowing / sucking / swallowing river full of boulders love making on the centrepiece leaches wriggling blind drawn through crowds boulder bed of the high priest and priestess sacrament of assimilation sucking on each other holding hands picking blood suckers off each other and after some rattling of the bones we sit on other sides of the bay, unable to touch – this is obviously fine and just the way it goes my energy field is balanced and I am at peace but for the bloating sacks of ignorance congregating - they never left school – someone is a wine buff – Tom from Rosslare great man bought 22,000 bottles for the season, flogging them now, knows he’s got to I feel for him Jesus I’d take some off his hands Me tooIts not cheap but its good good to help Tom out, from Rosslare owns the hotel family hotel Strap into a wetsuit 3 km down and back to Seapoint – BUT is this really a race to you? A challenge an accomplishment?? Are you not going to surrender to eternity, are you still surveying and cultivating?? Give up you oiled up pulsating smog cloud – cry for once – just let it out – I can summon the stars from the night sky because I gave up because I like being cold and naked after I swim because I tuck into a little ball and know the magnitude of my insignificance May sky evening Eros glow – amber melting pot blowing up behind the headland – obviously love will be the steppingstone but where to find it where to find it When you close your eyes for a while then open them again all the colours are bludgeoned and seeping out like in a crayon drawingIt reads:“Portrait of Madame Lynch for he is deep in my loins” The crayons make it true – lined up against all the other steppingstones - a permanent sun on my back / a pain threshold broken / robbing a plaque /crowbars and copper / millennium celebrations – DCC’s on fire!!!An hour-long nap half-awake half-asleep – sounds of >^> - does that translate in any possible way?I am unknowable but you see straight through me Half-awake half-asleep Energy fields balancedI am at peace

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Putting Out Gas Fires with Hydrogen Bombs*
In my dreams you sat across from me holding my face the world breathes with you – you were the cause of all life and all death the sun on my face and my red cheeks burning - all visions derivative of yours - the grass on suburban greens An 8 year old girl a 6 year old boy clad in school uniform – spinning out of control - tears and silent screams exhausted frequencies the same colour as everything else - parks with little ugly streams plastic everywhere smell of piss fences that hurt you on your inside – gravel - dog shit - and malign over stagnated blood clots - what did they see?And then you across from me – all the power of the cosmos in flailing dyspraxic arms conducting some medieval symphony set in the terrible future And waking up there is nothing to be done but stand and smoke and know the stillness of the night

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Month of the Dead*
Arrive at 3 O’clock this afternoon – said he had a little job to this morning drove to Skibbereen and back left at 5am for whom? Someone he doesn’t know anyway it’s not important – there is very little telling what mood he will be in – he is a soft and sensitive man – uncouth, treated badly, and prone to severe depressions – more of a ghost than a fatherIt is the 5th of May, tomorrow is my birthday, the sun has been shining a lot and I am golden brown He often arrives and we will walk and get a coffee and these can either be very stimulating encounters or an experience close to being put prematurely into an old person’s home - that is to say they leave you feeling sedated and let downIt was his birthday three days ago so hopefully he will be well but there’s no guarantee so perhaps he will be bitter May oh May oh May oh May Month of birthdays and deathdays and stretching sun and start of summer and deathdays retreating to invisible worldsThe river has flooded many times in paradise washing the caravan and decking and sheds and gas cylinders away – they built a concrete barrier next to the river and we covered it with soil and plants and now it is beautiful again – In the mid-day sun the deck warms and expands and releases an invisible gas that slows time into the atmosphere - a secret sand dune reaching high into the sky away frompopulation – the feeling of something being sacred – the ultimate feeling of betrayal –A girl and a boy died in mayAfter my birthday I like to curl into a ball and wait for may to end The rest of the month belongs to them