Poetry

by Neil Donnelly Uncle Eddie, large head, black hair, who until that moment, in an open box in a house on Cider Avenue, Belfast, looking healthy on that cold black…

photo by Bill Keller by Bill Keller I can’t get lost — this trail runs straight. I go a few miles out and back.No intersections, choosing routes,just the Yes of gravel underfoot. I sometimes dream another…

by Kevin T McEneaney When you raise a glass of wine to toast with friend, that wine would not exist, except that wasps provide the brewing yeast for all the…

When a dense mist-cloud envelopes the day with invisible prickle of raindrops that decorate one’s eyelashes and ears, one feels like one is walking in a dream without the clock…

by Kevin T McEneaney Creation: process of variation among life forms on this goodly planet where chemicals continually change and biological organisms swerve and adapt to the environment. The universe…

by Neil Donnelly On Dublin’s Grafton Street I pass an old man, vainly trying to squeeze notes from a harmonica, an upturned empty hat as his feet. Something of that…

by Kevin T McEneaney As a child I watched Looney Tunes cartoons, yet I didn’t know just what a loon was. Later on in life, I discovered loons: their peculiar,…

Webb Pond, Maine by Kevin T McEneaney Ducks puddle on pond, loons dive in water, curling flock of frothing clouds overhead, shoreline landscaped with angular gray rocks, hawk circling high,…

neurons in the brain by Kevin T McEneaney There are many varieties of rocks, so many kinds that I’m often confused. At times I think there are rocks in my…

by Neil Donnelly Walking towards the Golf club, sun beating on the Old Head of Kinsale; at the Sentry Box, between a limp tricolor and a stars n’ stripes, a…