Saline Caoineadh
South by sound, she sailed along where oceans moan and spread their wings. A siryn’s call in canyon’s lost; she cried a ghost to answer me “I’m waiting. I’m wading.” Her hellfire eyes parted waves; a...
View ArticleIt’s Your Funeral
Not sure what compelled me, but I went and found me ass in church th’ other day. Hadn’t been stepped in one for years, since I moved out on me own. Not by choice, anyway. Few times went for visiting to...
View ArticleThe Good People
“They took my kid and they replaced him with a fuckin’ stick!” “A stick.” “A fuckin’ stick!” “Who did?” “The Good People.” “The Good People kidnapped your son and replaced him with a stick.” “That’s...
View ArticleAn Rogaire Dubh
I walked into the pub some 15 minutes later. The light from the street lamps that seeped in through the window was swallowed up by the black-brown wood that furnished the bar, reclaimed from some...
View ArticleJohn Kelley’s Wake
Back in the main room of the pub they were playing “Auld Triangle” on the speakers — The Pogues version, as if there were any other. It was sundown, and in the distance you could just make out a halo...
View ArticlePlastic Paddy’s Wake (and Bake)
(to the tune of “Finnegan’s Wake”) Plastic Paddy lived on Linden Street, A mutt with a tinge of Irish blood. His North Shore accent wicked sweet and in his life, smoked too much bud. So he had a sort...
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