Hugh Joseph Curran Poems

Four Horsemen
He flexed his shoulders, his apocalyptic tattoos flickering
in the locker-room, the skulls rearing with horses on his muscled
...

LOCKER ROOM
Undressing in the locker room, his hair spiked, his speckled eyes
conflicted, his tongue emitting barely articulate sounds as he burst
...

MOUNTAIN SANCTUARIES

Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus,
is the cry that echoes in mountain
...

BEING & NOTHING

We strive for the essence
of non-being, believing it
...

MARU, OF THE DEAD
Maru, it is of the dead we speak,
the dead leaving their own tales:
a stone dropped into a well,
...

DEAD STONE

There is no sound like a dead
stone falling into
...