Saturday, April 26, 2014


Moon Dog
Words sound
like a heart in my mouth
A beautiful deer
lives in my lungs.
Moonlight trickles
into my apartment window
and rests like a dog
at the foot of the bed.

Eat words
in a house full of thunder
store a dictionary in your chest
Lick ice cream off of a spoon
and sip tea out of a kettle.
Remember that you left
your mind in the scullery
where the sun rests in the cooler.
Turn off the TV
that lives in your head
and dig into words in fistfuls.

Word Dreams
When we cuddle
you twirl your mousey hair
between your fingers.
eyes close and we fade into sleep
and I hear your feet tiptoe
across my shoulder blades
and crawl down my back.
Your feet fall on the wooden
floor like orange peel
I signal for you to come back to
bed but you ignore me
and venture out in a jacket
that is too small for you.
Outside your arms and legs
stretch like roots as you fish
for words in pools and streams
the slate grey moon watches words
dance out of your lips.

I went to bed with a
glass stomach full of caterpillars.
And in the morning a strange scratching
came at the door, voices whispered down the hall
and out of my mouth flew thousands of butterflies. 


Ginna FunkWallace said...

Each one better than the one before it; well done brother. A fine flock.

Taidgh Lynch said...

Glad you liked them Ginna. I've got quite a flock of poems. The shearing will start shortly.