Michael Galvin

It's old as the sun-
burnt arabs falling in pools
following gazelles.
...

I'm a vacancy for the wind -
a pocket for a feast, still and unmoved
in my sticks.
...

In sleep's uneasy tide
the explorer slips on black stone
gathered in the sea's white lace.
...

I
The time you once took to counsel
the puzzle of your faces
is redeemed in another mirror.
...

They climb away from wombs of earth,
not quite living, nor yet born,
compelled by blind thirst for air
the clamour of the world entombs.
...

The hush, and rush, of sea:

gulls creak in gulfs of air,
climb against accumulating auguries,
...

There, sunset boils waters
falling off the earth,
fusing all bows in red fall.
...

When the tide goes out,
the dance retreats from the broken hall
to the deadlands and dry pillars
in the caverns of the sea.
...

Yellow tips round
faces to descending blue,
listening without motive.
...

To perishing filaments:
the beginning
is the destination,
the unrecorded Spring,
...

The president
leads his gawky satellite
in autumn leaf,
and when her orbit
...

Their lyres remember
the tender current,
the ribbed arches,
the torn king's flesh,
...

At the cardium of the fruit
a shape with praying hands tears the flesh
to the fibres in the pit.
Emptying the crimson ditch of its stone
...

While tourists crowd and graze among the reproductions,
the gaze of Perseus focuses
bronze infinity beyond the works of art.
...

You stray;
you've always been a stray,
picked and shaken
by pet collectors.
...

I
I am the undiscovered discovery.
The discovery of my presence is a forememory.
Those who wake in me know their creation.
...