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My postillion has been
struck by lightning
Let's go
going to Tipperary
snowman on the shoulder
Dun Seand
Dun Helsiang
Dun Beach
he was a good man
Argh maith.
Ta wourgh aigh
Neit!
Je suis lantement Gott Nytt År!
Tá mé lourchgha weirdh ag núll
Willy wally
Bealtaine — gaelic for sex
Wishingwell
Pulmonaria
Tá mé sainth
Tá mé righth
Still...
the postillion is struck
Tá grá álainn i mo chroí duit
And the story bout Alan
involving the axe
let's not
Arwen, most beautiful — sleep with me
Faethe, fairy friend — stand by my side
Kerye, dark eyes — tell me all the mysteries
tha longest nite, tha nite tha neer ends, it'll beenough
Waking up on the highway, diamonds above
the sound of thunder in the distance
a lost dog licking in the face stroking
Mac Oc, näcken
Mac Napp talking tunes of rhythm
wheel you be there
when I'm gone
Living my life in the forest of the fir Bolgs the broken hearts singing
drummers drumming the leep san shou of the katmandu trapping the mac
hoping one day to come through, get a lap sang in the pillow
Yer lock has changed
What were you saying?
The jester sang for the king and queen
with the voice he borrowed from James Dean
jester lester come on fester
Dia duit ar maidin!
Swear the new
coming of the
— play sun!
I do not pretend to equate my knowledge with my knowledge
it's a matter of literature
few can read, nobody can write
Och!
Livingstone.
Right there,
it's a mess
Plantes aux hurmes vos picons
De paour des bisans si tres durs
Et aussi d'estre sur les joncs
Enmahes en coffres en gros murs
Hyvä Perse!
Hyvä Alta!
O, exodus primus
cubiculum sedet
rude nude
makebelif coat
of magical allocation
bene placito
ad augusta per angusta
warte, warte
paragate
ad fundum
adeste fideles
Prästinnan av den sorgliga skepnaden
drar från stad till stad med sitt vansinnesskratt
Och vi, sen
med händerna bundna
Amfiteatrar och koloner
pyramider och grifflar
tiergarten som en hägring
apfelstrudel utan sans
inga tomma löften, här
Postilljonen vid sidan av vägen
fastfrusen i dimman
spöken irrar vida i månskärans tid
mörkret som en kappa
fukten som en slöja
sörjig lera
klatch
give me an h
Hike the pacific crest trail
bag the Monroes
Santiago de Compostela
the valley of two lakes and Lough Derg
beloved, I hope you're riding ahead
beloved, gaze in thine own heart, the holy tree is growing there
Wer aus Liebe heiratet, hat unter Schmerzen zu leben
Schopenhauer says and looks at the watch — time to go
the lips touching the soil
a bit of a taste in an eye a thought a square
and the wildness warm breathing thee
simple life in the difficult everyday
the inside of the panther the unbecame
Meanwhile...
in Cill Chainnigh
St Lachtain is rebuilt
no excuses
deriving
Riding the waves of that black ocean
with a stout a pint in the right hand
and a flat sword in the left
Snart kommer döden som en dimma
som ett himmelskt ljus
eller en tisdag på IKEA
Vi ses vi ses i Connemara
Vi ses i blåsten där ölen är svart
Vi ses vi ses i Connemara
Vi ses igen efter denna ovädersnatt
Then happy I that love and am beloved
Where I may not remove, nor be removed
Come again!
Quardle oodle ardle wardle doodle
the magpies said
To wait for you in the garden. In the garden stands a tree. It's an oak. But also a birch, a
maple, an appletree, a pine. The leaves, will. Under rusty roots the crocodilemouth, edgar.
And, on the top, the ezraic wind. With a red white and yellow piece of plastic bag humbling
like paul now late in life. With the knife you scrape a little of the brown and see antons
green. And ann, can you smell the fruits? Yes, collected by katarina in the flowerbasket. Birds
nesting over your head. Flowers blooming the white light of beauty. Nighttime is the right
time to be with the one you love, johan. No moss is not welcome here! The sun of ingmar
sees the eyes of the animals living in the garden. No bob can scare them away. So lars mikael,
wait for me in that garden. See the m through.
He who lives in the north has an echo in his phone