Being pronounced "Dead to Reason"
He murdered Her, the Scorpion King did, My husband, the Legendary Robin Williams did one sunny afternoon in his lead with Dustin Hoffman in "Hook"
His Dream was clear, a rough, clear man, a flowered vest, a ronin world, unlike its story sea of Sky and Rainbow Fairy bend and origin of the Stars called the legendary, mythological fairy World and Realm called Planet, Fllie, the size of Neptune, only Carbuncled and personified under each Blue orbital for the Stars.
He withheld himself, and made his Own heart smile, a faint glow of Innocence no one could see one outmatch for a billion Starry skies of Childhood Nephilim of the millennium falcon
And for that, his Flight was Merry, Mary. And for that, We, the fairy of the Stars, shall always remember Him.
COLD WAR ARTIST
The art of such intention is fatigue
At living lies outside the scope of death,
To wear in the last blitzkrieg
A shroud meaning artist, a wreath
Of columbine in the hair, but the kitchen eyes,
Carbuncled knees betray the giver’s art.
Down on the doorstep, she’ll scrub your lies:
To her gift of total self she’ll add a part -
Your own tongue sliced and severed on her plate
Of 20th century design – taste
The dust of pointillism, the cubist fate
Of newspaper and cello here embraced –
The emptiness filched from the master’s past:
Mankind’s death wishes, home to roost at last.
1964-1987
published IN MEMORY OF HER, Dublin, 2008
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