ENDLESS We become older to clinking night We become in spite We become no matter We become electric. SURFING AT STREEDAGH STRAND Streedagh Strand pulls out her linen towel Five hundred wiped-out sailors beat, robbed and stripped A good savage attending only to castles and mountains in the Breffni mountains where they hid. BOG DISCO HANDWRAPPING |
HOME
from the festival
z
z
z
He is Z beside me
a rise and fall
of ribcage.
He is too humble,
too loyal to be
assigned E-U-S.
Nonetheless,
he is my god
in this scenario.
He does not stir
to my arrival,
which I am a bruised
peach about—
all acquired ego,
from the poets.
I am home, love,
ready to graft
my way out
of the talk-shop.
I want to jab his side
with my finger,
and command
an alt universe
for us,
'Rise and fall
to the woman
of your dreaming.'
Instead, he smells
like a brewery
and I fen,
a half-naked sliver
s
s
s
s
of tiredness,
touch-screening
white light keys
of Notepad,
as it extends
and shines upon
his face and arms,
my face too —
a flickering
tap tap
hold down
transform
letter
suggest
autocomplete
flicker
tap
flicker
tap
return
tap
return
tap
return
hold
flicker
lightning
connect
socket
charge
wake up scoop up
my body become
my peering point
Sample of Five Poems from ‘Transmissions‘, Elaine Cosgrove’s forthcoming debut poetry collection. Publication Autumn 2017, Dedalus Press, Ireland.
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