Most of the poems go unreadthese days not so long agomy wife read them not so long before thatmy father read them now she has lost interest, while heis dead editors will read a fewI suppose, but I writemore than I can submit, so they are writtento be read by nobodywhich begs the question if a poem is written, and is readby nobody was it … Continue reading If a Poem Falls in a Forest by Steve Denehan
That he knows meseems, more than anythingto annoy him first, a hesitant hellothat I return before the proclamationI know you! followed by a questiona series of questionsWas it school? No…was it?You’re Johnny’s brother, are you?Do you get the 120 to Dublin?Where do you drink? Wait, don’t tell me… before, finally, statementsI definitely know you.That’s going to annoy me now.You’re not one of the Murrays…It’s not … Continue reading And Hundreds Just Like Him by Steve Denehan
The sauna is visiblefrom the swimming poolallowing me to monitorthe comings and goings the comings dry upthe last person leavesI give it ten minutesjust to be sure my senses are overwhelmedthe steamy hazethe smell of cedarthe thick, dense heat perfectexcept for the man that sitsjust inside the glass doorhunched over, head down a big man, burlywho did not enter on my watchwho must have been … Continue reading The Clybaun Hotel, Galway, Last Day of August 2024 by Steve Denehan
YesterdayI wished someone dead todayI learned that they are in hospital with little time leftweeks, days maybe I can’t help but feelpartially responsible if this is to be my superpowerI am going to be busy Continue reading Hold My Calls by Steve Denehan
I am a survivalistin thatI am surviving, butthere are survivalistsof another kindthose who digdeep downto createunderground bunkers this is appealingto me my bunker would be simplefilled with books and candlesenough non-perishable foodto last several decadesa CD playera backup CD player, andanother CD playerjust in case there would be a fridgea washing machinean oven, andof coursea generatorpowered by abovegroundsolar panels and wind turbines there would be … Continue reading Survivalists by Steve Denehan
Everything is mutedthe landscapethe sky the peoplein their dull clotheswith their dull faces they walkslowlyto the pub they walkslowlyfrom the pub each day walking, to talkto the same peopleabout the same things there is a boatthat sails from the islandto the mainland each dayand each dayit is empty Continue reading The Island, 1923 by Steve Denehan
I’m not racist but…he droned onI listenednoddingat what I guessedwere the right times he told me about his promotionhis new carrecent and upcoming holidaysbefore askingif I could lend him some money he fed me old jokesintellectual psychobabblepretentiousnesspeppered with obscure references we had known each otherfor a long timehe had talked and I had listenedfor a long time I had not expectednot even consideredthat I might … Continue reading True, For the Most Part by Steve Denehan
I have had two telephone callstodayso far the first person told methat he doesn’t want to liveanymore the second told methat she cannot find a single wayto be happy it is not yet eleven in the morning Continue reading Telephone Calls by Steve Denehan
It’s been one of those daysso, I decide to end itwith something from the vending machine wrappers and packetsprimary colorsso many, all good I settle on a Mars Barput the coins in the slotpress E4 the metal coil rotatesthe bar is pushed forwardonly to fall and rest against the glass I should have expected thatJesusI shake the machine, nope then, lightning strikesI put the last … Continue reading Vending Machine by Steve Denehan
It’s been nearly two hours nowhe is still talkingI am still listeningafter the first hour I switched handsthe phone, heavier and heavierI’ll have to switch again soonthere has never been anyoneto talk so much and say so little the words pour from himtraveling down the wirehitting my ear like wingless birdshe runs through his greatest hitsgrowing up in Dublinall of his jobsmoney troubleswhat a guy … Continue reading Mm-Hmm by Steve Denehan
