Sonnet VIII

there is a bitterness
stark rancid air
this dark short day
turn the lights on
relieve with a trick
sleight of hand
temporary ceasefire
a pleasant smile

feet planted in the soil
and the rain will come
first a sad droplet
then pouring down
fills your pockets
floods your shoes

Sonnet VII

temperatures rise but rain falls
startled tumult on the window pane
regular rhythm and even rhyme
life lived beneath the floodlights
an essence overcomes the shadows
a breeze blows from the sidelines
and so it goes lap by lap
sweat washed from the heated brow
steady speed barely takes the strain
keep counting down hold the focus
there is only this moment
savour each breath gasp of pain
the stars are out tonight
hot breath lifts towards them

Sonnet VI

daydreams of the waterfall sublime
a most magnificent Cascade
coming down as we come up
in the Vale of the Roaring Brook
turbulence provides an altered state
curious calm in the Thunder-shower
a savage roar in the ears
vast crowd of huge white Bears
clamber in over the rocks
move out of imperfect shelter
into the dark pool itself
falling in into icy water
and suddenly a new perspective
swims in below the surface

Cowboys & Indians

Some secret mystery awaits. Wisdom and knowledge. What is the difference? Wait for the word. Crowd around. The art of wonder. Idleness a pleasure before the cowboys roll in, slap their thighs, succumb to much hilarity.

Sonnet V

of course it all comes back
an offshore breeze rumples
the water ruffles the hair
pink boomerang in flight
rears up into grey matter
brief resistance to the elements
onwards and upwards a pause
and something hurtles back to earth
return to simple dialogue
the big questions dealt with
in occasional glances an easy
quiet beneath the knife
and fork click and clack
the unheard beating of the heart

Sonnet IV

and then there was some turbulence
a mighty storm blew in from the west
the days were very dark now
I held your hand quiet child
your eyes large beneath the water
raindrops pour into full floods
the long imaginary plain the way
home unrecognisable beneath
the sudden loss of day
and yet you change too
grow in stature when the wind
spits small ice in your face
some days you take it on the chin
some days you run and run and run

On the Wind's Wings

Borne aloft on the winds of the imagination children take to the skies. Multicoloured wings flash in the sunlight, reflections in the harbour water. Strange to see such freedom totter and fall as adult legs weave unsteadily in the next room. Downcast eyes fix firmly on the dull brown floorboards. The shade, the texture. All very interesting. Let's open the window now, let in some air.

Birds

Sonnet III

there are leaves
falling from the sky
crumpled messages
fill the many pockets
loose change gathers
a careless offering

and the metro station
fills with the air of a violin
classical elegance a concert
plays out to an unembarrassed hush
the audience flows on
ineffably towards the sea

and when the music is silent
what, after all, remains?

Sonnet II

the art of measurement
occurs in the everyday
submission to pain
in variable light
and occasional dark
ignorant of time
one more step ahead

it's not so bad really
there is a dryness
in the throat
the muscles strain
a furious dialogue
wonders how the agony
will end the pain will die

Marathon

Suddenly the wind is still. Temporary silence in the sky and then the rumble on the road. Breathe in, breathe out and this strange journey begins.

John McLaughlin

Resistance

Resistance and counter-resistance of the medium. The delicate touch followed by the thrashed guitar, drum and bass in time. Comprehension is not important. The wind doesn't care about tears. It is enough to balance precariously; first one foot then the other. Listen to that! Every day you are different.

Aidan Higgins

Reading

Aidan Higgins plies me with gin and I read for him. Teamwork. I sit in the more comfortable chair. Aidan, with his failing eyesight, tries to stare into the middle-distance can perhaps make out a glimmer of light at the tunnel's end. He listens intently to his own uncompromising words flowing from my mouth. Balcony of Europe. Drinks with the dastardly baron. Martin Bormann slinks in and out of the room, savage and stealthy. I hear Alannah return and close the door downstairs. I take a swig of gin and embark upon the retelling of Aidan's first, fated marriage. It crumbles before my eyes. Aidan breathes heavily beside me and Alannah tiptoes into the room. Infidelity is recounted in painful detail. Love. It stings.
We talk together afterwards, clear the air. Banville, McGahern, Trevor, Mahon. Derek's mother called him an oddity. Said when he was little he wanted to be an aeroplane. She'd watch him from a window, running around the garden arms outstretched. Aidan and Alannah recall a reading in Toronto where he did the same thing as he read, taking off beneath the bright lights.

Sonnet I

even just to enter the surf
wrapped up in funereal black
bare blubber in the bubbles
the shock of that fierce slap
tossed around and shaped
stripped to a pale bone
thrown up on the high tide
trodden down in the sand

and in silence in a car
a couple watch the waves
crash down without them
almost time to go now
the sky darkens into October
and the wind roars in their ears