Ireland

Through the coils of airport security
That remind me of the ancient glyph,
The sacred labyrinth,
We tread the track with humanity in its
Full awe-spectral splendor,
Multipulchritudinous in
Every conceivable color and angle,
Rhomboids and spirals and fractal fragments--
All shuffle ahead like women and children
Captured by the enemy's horde.

We wait, we wait at the boarding gate.

In the eye-drying air,
The red-eyed air,
Air so high, so thin, so dry,
The thirsty one, having drained his canteen,
Rings the blue bell, the blue-chiming bell;
Throughout the cabin, the sleepers stir,
They stir but do not open eyes.
Mr. Bear comes by to answer the call.
For six silver pieces, he brings forth salvation,
Fresh water from Sweden, both still and sparkling.
The parched one guzzles; his needs are sated
For an hour at most, then he rings again.

"Six silver pieces."

No place for feet to rest,
The limbs are cramped
And cross-pinned in a narrow grave.
We cannot stretch
And dream away this grueling night.
Forgive us, sun; whatever sins have exiled you
We now repent. We need your dawn! And so accept
This groaning pain
As sacrifice
For your return.

A second missile sails toward Erin;
Icefire drips on shamrock green.
We wanderlings storm in from the west,
All wild with wanting and wishing a welcome:
Open yer portals! Be swift and admit us,
The pilgrims who seek the arcane and serene.

The sky-elf in knitted cap jumps up,
Jitters fore and aft, cannot stay fixed!
He gabs in a tongue that may be Romanian,
Or some queerer cant, like Leprechaunese.

Bubbly Dublin!
"Minister kills exit cow, a plan."
"Chief probed, that's clear."
"Insurer enters the sickly market."
"Standoff near the migrant camp."
"Fire victim calls for stardust."
"Masked men 'horrified, chilled' by protest."

The ribbony roads, the rustling river,
The music-makers in the trees,
The ferny vales, the good-day gorse,
The fair sheep dotting up the fields.

Evenings run late and mornings come early.
Hush, and have another beer.

Here Joyce walked and here Swift studied,
Here Wilde whimmed and Beckett bowled.
Here you'll see faces friendly and ruddy,
Here you'll hear tales endless times retold.

The Wicked Earl, a jealous snot,
Thought his wife unfaithful; she was not.
The rumors hinted that his brother
Was Mary's paramour, him and no other.
For thirty-one years, Robert locked her away;
In Gaulstown House she had to stay,
Her only companions, the ghosts on the walls:
She conversed with the portraits lining the halls.
Only when Robert died and was buried
Was Mary rid of the demon she'd married;
And though she survived her husband's ire,
She was but a shell, robbed of wits and desire.

As we sailed below the Cliffs of Moher,
A Viking ship did assail us,
But since we carried no lucrative load,
They lost the urge to impale us.
"Direct us, then, to the holy men
Who hoard their glittery chalices!
We need their treasure to decorate
Our pagan timber palaces."

An Irish moose once grazed these bogs
And frightened the Limerick cats and dogs;
In a cosmic wink
It went extinct--
Now the fearsomest beasts are the polliwogs.

Ferry me across to Kerry;
There I'll find a Dingly dairy,
A lonesome lough, a frivolous fairy,
And perhaps a colleen from Ballyglengarry.

"April is the driest month."

passage tomb tram stop river castle quay hag arch piper
cottage ogham stone stone stone fort
lamb tetrapod wishing tree monks ferry high kings little people
bloody sunday magdalene laundry lass eco euros stay left
roundabout cyclists tourists rhodos bluebells shoplifter coffee
tea scones traffic jam buttery stew stout clotted cream
clod clop clon mac noise glen mac nass
blarny killarney ballyvourney dungourney

~~riverrun?~~

The Flow, as you know,
Is needed to go.
It wraps around every isle and eyelet,
Wipes dung and deadwood from the land,
Expands the mind,
Absolves the soul,
Quenches the thirst of a parched parish priest,
Fills the gills of turbot and trout,
Slams the seagate,
Riles the tide,
Swallows the mountains in roiling mists,
Pebbles one's specs with spume and spray,
Cools the lava (also flowing,
Fissure to flank to fossilly rock),
Collapses the cliff,
(Grinds the grain),
Grinds the shingle to gravel to sand,
Spreads the sand, blankets the seabed,
Combs the seagrasses' straggly tresses,
Stresses, compresses, reserves, preserves,
Fractures, flakes . . . Oh, look at the seagulls!
Do look at the seagulls,
Look at the seagulls:
They glide so fluidly on the breeze.