“
Why not admit that other people are always
Organic to the self, that a monologue
Is the death of language and that a single lion
Is less himself, or alive, than a dog and another dog?
With vision but it is vision builds the eye;
And in a sense the children kill their parents
But do the parents die?
And the beloved destroys like fire or water
But water sculpts and fire refines
And if you are going to read the testaments of cynics
You must read between the lines.
”
― Autumn Journal
― Autumn Journal
“
From Glen to Glen
by Stewart Stafford
Solitary bike ride and you were dead,
The Ballymun Bard in Strawberry Bed,
Committed to your art, passion in voice,
The Grafton Troubadour made his choice.
Street, pub, arena with you as amplifier;
The listening public, your improv choir,
We had you but once, bittersweetly,
Life folding back upon itself neatly,
Gap in the soundboard of a holy guitar,
A tantalising future was a busk too far,
Visceral no more, see God in the clouds,
Your songs echo back fro
...more
”
―
―
