Lorcan Black

Lorcan Black Poems

Somewhere above an intercom crackles and buzzes-
the voice of God?

And these other bodies down here-
...

There are four walls, a window, an exit.

And that thing trapped inside

could be an animal.


...

What has it come to that a town of mouths
should fall open upon my return?

Each familiar face that greets me
...

I.

How many White Nights have you trawled
the banks of the Neva, electrified as a nervous wire
...

I am a small god of transformations,
the subterfuge of a nymph that contorts
at will into a laburnum,
the extravagance of its frills, my speciality.
...

Lorcan Black Biography

Lorcán Black is an Irish writer, living in London. He has previously worked as a journalist, both in radio and in print. His poetry has been published in Snapdragon, Connecticut River Review, Northern New England Review, The Los Angeles Review, The Saint Ann's Review, The Stinging Fly & Assaracus amongst numerous others. He is a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee and has been longlisted for the Two Sylvias Prize. Some of his work has been archived in the Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library at Yale University and in the Saginaw Valley State Univeristy Library, as well as the British Library, the National Library of Ireland and the Library of Congress. His first collection, Rituals, was published by April Gloaming Publishing in 2019.)

The Best Poem Of Lorcan Black

Ritual

Somewhere above an intercom crackles and buzzes-
the voice of God?

And these other bodies down here-
stupid and graceless,

vile in their proximities
in the dust and hot air.

Trains slam out of tunnels,
erupting and fleeting-
great, mechanical shafts
shunting out the hours.

Warm carriages envelope me
with their waves of light.

They feel like home.

This is the essence of love:
hands against the glass,
vacuum-packed against some foreign chest
and this strangled immediacy;
strangers sharing a breath.

One blink and the thread dissolves,
the doors slice open-

Ceremonial.

Lorcan Black Comments

Lorcan Black Quotes

'Outside the moon admonishes the stars
 in their cold multitudes: I am not important-

 empty vessel of shrieks 
the walls muffle and eat.'

Lorcan Black Popularity

Lorcan Black Popularity

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