Archives for posts with tag: Joyce

Victorian Pub –

Stories stored in its timber ~

Nice curve on that bar.

Opening a book – 

Your city, coming to life ~ 

The world entire.


Sandcastles, hailstones –
All the crabs are dead ~ bar one –
Shelly Rathmullan.

Pittosporum scent –
Exceeds all else, as night falls ~
The light from the fire.

Stephen’s fleeting blooms –
Passed over since the picture ~
Birdsong persisting.

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