My father like Leviathan

In different dreams,
my father visits me in the house I live in now;
wearing his dead-man’s shoes, he comes like Leviathan,
bigger than my memory of him, to meet me in imagined rooms.

Jacob’s ladder

Souls in bright homes

Souls

in bright homes

cook tomorrow

from the day’s last scraps.

souls

crowded souls

drifting and confined
against the gates of heaven
wait quietly for the afterlife

Uamh an Oir / Cave of Gold

There is a darkness
Where waves sleep out the winter
And out of which the mists of time
Slyly slip unnoticed
To hang moist upon the still, grey sea.

Such a place is where the living fear to go
Even with a lifetime of songs inside their hearts,
Even with willing hands and pipes to play them on.

Only two hands. More's the pity.

Ghosts