Umbilical chord - could it be true
Two heads are better than one
Co-joined inspirations
Don't go there, the ugliness overtakes me
And maybe
Look, don't read any more
You can't touch stuff nowadays
And without that humankind doesn't mean anything at all
Umbilical chord or not
Into the garden, the garden out of season
Back-along; the swirls, the paisley
The Gaelic confessions
With the accordion
Foot tapping
On the boards under canvas
By the bar stool
In the smoky haven
Outside of the gardens
Not now though
Today we are in search of
A more open enquiry
To reach a past time
Or a delusion not yet measured
Fruit face; I've wanted to say that for a while
Not that your necklace is unbecoming
But with asparagus tips, tonight's no night for slumming
Twigs laced; I've not told the whole story
But with twelve photographs of your head, organically immersed
You've given us all something to think on, or otherwise disperse
House without doors, house without windows
House with no one inside or out
House, made of thorns, a protection of sorts
Or a suggestion
That home is all we have to cling to
Or that home is all we have
In our struggle to get away
The road sign says No horse racing on the carriageway
A good job on that day; for you were past racing
Your racing days were over
All your days were over
It was the first time that I had seen a glass and crystal coffin carriage
Horse drawn, groomed for the occasion
You would have liked the sign Road closed for a funeral procession
Hundreds, maybe thousands of well wishers
Stand back, make way, by notices they are instructed
The sun shone then as the sun shines now - outside the gallery
Inside, a casket: Lacrymatory - The Jerpoint kick-starts the memory
Of someone I never ever knew
Though I know now, my chasing days too are almost over
All of those days are almost over
