What Millennials Want
We want to weigh 150 tonnes
and be covered in grey-blue skin
smooth as oil. We want our lungs
to deflate into our chests
when we hunt
the midnight zone
We want to weigh 150 tonnes
and be covered in grey-blue skin
smooth as oil. We want our lungs
to deflate into our chests
when we hunt
the midnight zone
When the arena of war shifted to the planet,
when we listened for the scrape of pangolin nails,
the black beat of rhinos, the crex of corncrakes
who would not …
a knot for the nettles and ditches
a knot for the ragwort’s scald
a knot for the ghosts at the holy well
a knot for the missing child
a knot for …
Iolair Mhara
Two eagles lock talons in mid-flight
and tumble together towards the water
as if they’ll never stop falling,
but they disentangle just in time
and ascend to the top
of …
My brother
what do I do now
with my impulse
to tie our shoes together
and launch them into the wire
the way I think
you think
sublime vistas are conjured
I prepare a …
for children and their caretakers during wartime
Co Tu sang not sleeping
the lamp lit
one year old toddler me near-death
war attack aftermath with stomach sickness
The Palestinian child
does not think about being Palestinian,
but only of how his kitten
slept last night
and why is it not
in its basket.
Before he walks to …
That’s far enough, I yell across the dry
riverbed where twigs shoot up between rocks
with leaves like mistaken tenses: was, were,
watch. That’s far enough—wrenching
the children from their …
when it is time
the sun sets pink on the birch
and it will be winter
we are no stranger than we were
gingered joy will have melted after
icicles …
Music does not matter
Not much poetry to read
The fresh air by the lake
Only helpful to the lungs
Throughout the year, I rarely dream
But meditate a few times
My life depends on others
Some …
If words attire thought
what is thinking
when carnage is daily weather—met with an itch
to switch the channel—a call to the misnamed
Department of Public Safety to confront gun awe—
no words–but flesh is …
Have I become cynical? Probably. Anxiety
mounts the horse of optimism and drives
her into the ground. There is no here here
and I am trapped in the melody of mountain
and …