niall gormley Poems

Jack Fry may well have been
A fire-boy on a tall ship.
Sailing the world
He'd carry buckets of soup
...

The ocean is not quiet
But ever ringing bass and tenor.
And banging and clatterring down on the rocks
It's booming fortissimo deep in in its maw
...

Seven wishes for your morning.
Seven spring to feed your well.
Seven echoes of you calling me;
I just can't tell.
...

1,000 angels dribbling
whiskey
From their tired mouths
Like a thousand hallucinations
...