In hourglasses,
Our myths collect top-shelf dust,
And I am farming black holes in my living room,
Because today the gates of heaven have opened,
Revealing a grasping prehensile maw.… Read More “FORTY THREE YEARS by Oisin Breen”
In my cupboard is a collection of coffee mugs, designed in the eighties,
sold at tourist stands and second hand stores.… Read More “DISSOCIATION by Mair Allen”