thee pan pipes resonate down from clay bluffs into welsh ocean swell

ebbing and flowing porth niegwl,

finding places and spaces near the selkies bath, salty breathe in medicine

beating skin songs ov thee primordial cow, on drums ov a journeyman

a joyful sound is shared, abreast the gorse nested with black bees

sleep comes the night with the leather winged, and owles crone

thatched and sheltered, a ten of moons

 octopi of blue swell in salt caves, and waves break on barnacled stone

a cold hug of the irish sea, surrounding the flesh cage

herding myself into voids of air, voids of black

telling myself I need to come back, to earthsands

a black brewed coffee, a lonely firestead

a few words to dull the melancholy of the night

in my own company, the way I used to, the way I’m used to…

If ye would walk slowly…

Yew may spy thee frogspawn in their submarine world, breeding in frenzy in their warm incubator
You could find thee woodpecker hole in an old Ash, where blind birdlings wait for wyrms in darknessAnd maybe catch the attention ov the bovine herd from the field over, that is, if they had something to say
Then trace spirals in standing stones ov slate, and think of a story yet told under thatched rooves
If ye would walk slowly, the plants would call you over, bend a stem or flower
and the bugs would walk on water, right in front of your eyes
Thee feline huntress waits patiently, not a hair of fur ruffled
and hooded crows fly in tandem o’er fields of wool and whistlin’
suddenly, a quieter earth, neath birch leaves sways in hammock
and wooden panels are a dance floor for thee birds
in soggy dew ov days thee dawn chorus sloughs off thee slumber
and there is always another walk to look forward to

Thee Black Desert


Shooting Star Sa-Ha-Ra, Blackest Stones Fallen from thee Deepest Spaces

Buried in sand, mirrored Nomad faces Candlegloaws, ov Mud temples ov Home

WhisKEY tea + CoosCoos Shapen Brass ringing through Virgin Eers Thee Desert dawgs wail, Camels grumble

A Thousand thousands ov Constellatory mark to color thee sky in opalescent white Ream

Thee dunes do not appear as the seeme & do not seem as they appear

For their seeming is only appearance, ov Dunes that are not. Lover Sun, Sister Sand, make love to me

Me to you… Mama Afrika pounded on skins By the vagabonds of the land

Quickening a tribute, ov Root + One I am High on thee Colored Medicine Horned moon rising soothes to

slumber. And I fall into thee Sky…



Premonitions ov an Arab abduction, Obfuscated in a net ov vines cut from thee hanging trees. Swaying over a floric ground of leather leaves, Night eternal of thee feral kat, In shadows of an ancient Spanish castle Thee eye slumbers nigh dead cactus and calm, Life receiving from thee dopamine streams Hassan i Sabbah…+ A witches hunt Wake! Popul Vuh abroad greenish aetheris Feline hunters emerge from crumbling stone Charms ov wood + spiral shells Husking palms + frothy swells The Medicine Eater treads the dirt To the Jazz song ov Bird Thee RA ov SUN…

Untitled English Poem

Blue tree lichens coat the bark like velvet skin

Red abscesses on wood, putrefying the organic musk

Veins ov mushrooms shaped like ears that can hear

Tunnels and terraforms, mine shafts ov the Grandfathers

Today I rooted trees back into thee earth ov HER

To render my ‘sins’ futile by scratch and scraw,

The birds caw, ascending brittle hills of tree skeletons

Pain creaking in my winded old man soul, sighing in the wind

Standing on thee edges ov the froth and foam,

My feet grace the Irish sea

The Kelpie Seal succumbs for AIR, and we share a space and time

On dark roadways passing in an English eve

I think… to this I gave.