the cloak

mid the grey desolation
of a rainswept galway street
colour tore my vision
from dreariness and fret
a cloak of ebon silk
lay crumpled in the mud
meshed with silver hues
and ochre tainted gold
a spider's web of threads
sent blood among the sheen
woven so by fingers
with a knowledge that is gone
and knowing came upon me
in a drumroll of heartbeats
the lost cloak of poetry
the mantle of john keats
and hunger came upon me
i snatched at it in greed
but it fluttered and it melted
into concrete into clay

sensus fidelium

How wondrous God is.
His glory is in each human being.
Every person on earth reflects some unique attribute of the Creator.
He has made us this way.
Our souls complete the universe.
The cosmos itself, the stars, the whirling galaxies, would not be complete without any one of us.
Why would mankind ever abort an unborn child, or euthanise an elderly person, or assist to suicide someone in despair.
What limitless beauty, riches, joy is lost when we do this.
Never acquiesce to such destruction.
Instead rejoice in the mystery of eternal gift that is people.
The God of Moses, the God of Abraham, the God of Jacob...
... is calling you by name.

dog mathematics

(Woof x 3) minus the square root of a tailie, divided by PIE grrrrr squared, times 7 chasing my cousin Vinnie, plus 8 times rummaging at the fence of the hen run next door multiplied by a snuffle times 8 chasing a tennis ball over 6 times raiding the cat's bowl + a pat  + the universal constant (a chewie biscuit) = a snooze break.

homage to an immortal

into every emily dickinson poem
- there comes a sudden - heft of sleight
where rhyme o'erbalences into meaning
and i think - well - this is alright

it cannot be - but yesterday
and yet - the aeons hem -
something something something - something
something something - again

a miktam of james

A fox wandering from the ancient fields into my garden at dawn pauses to praise the creator of the universe.
Sweetest breezes whisper good news.
The hedegrows shiver with elation.
Birds in flight call out the name of God rejoicing by their very being in what they are.
The mountains of beautiful Wicklow, the very stones, proclaim the royalty of existence.
A river cascades like prayer through our town and through our lives.
God made every human being on earth.
He did not make any mistakes.