alan patrick traynor


Provence Spoke Her Name
…for Magda

Alone in the vesuvian
Swaying caramel dust

She hung
Like a dreaming butterfly
In the mouth of Provence

That called upon the living
On the piano’s toes

Through her blackcurrant eyes
O blackcurrant eyes
That brambled up through the violet flames
To save the dying Ants

Until all but daydreams
Are gone

Until all but shades
Be flung

Into the vespoid fingers
That drove the diving dying light
Into the Crimson Forest
Of Gryfino

The crimson leather
Awakened tide

That called
Upon the living leaning

Her blackcurrant eyes


The Black Orchid

Pull the flames
From your face

And let the one
They should have picked
Grow up from the ground

From the pores of the pew
I kiss your mouth

And pollinate the cold stone wall
To touch your hand

In the Holy water
I drown with sorrow

As do all the spirits
That cut your cheeks
At birth

Pull the flames up
And over your face

And let me in
And let me die
Upon the lips that bend the light

Guttiferous are your eyes



I could drink you

And squeeze the window’s juice
Onto the floor

I could beat the drum of day
And watch until the desert moves

Like a collar bone
That moves out through the sand

Like a bayonet that pierced
                          But missed

In the centre of our Earth
There is a goldfish

Until you break


The Eyes That Drank The Trees

I am the dandelion
The soul of God

So thread on me carefully
As the ecocide
As the earwig knows

I am the ecliptic
The hand buried diamond
And I am blowing erratically

The thread that hurried time
Becomes the rock

I am carefully moaning
And I am drinking of you
The reflection that is woman
Oh blurry walk

A reflection of time
And delicacy
That twists
I drank the trees

The elflock
That hurls
The child’s hair

I am your soul
In pieces


Then Spiders Came

They came with their big scratched eyes
Like a dark desert night
In the thin slender
The bamboo coil
That pulls the paper shade
Into its crease

That night
Those bars
The camerated light that scribbles through my window
Is but a dream
Oh naked marble cobwebs is but a dream
Your face
That burns up day
And bites until it beats

That road
That web
That sorrowed middled blood where foreheads meet
Chimes their secret look
Chimes their middle
Chimes the cowards’ surrender I have not yet killed
But cornered

So that the spiders that came
Will come
So chimes their secret look
To Hell
With Ovid fingered hats
Until sleep is but a dream
Until sleep is but a dream we dream by day then night

So eat by day my scacchic eyed queen
For the anvil comes
When the horse is ready

But stay a while
Until the chair breaks
Until there are no more corners left that meet you

Wretched moves their angel
Into the light beldame

Be damned you orange creature


Boat On Its Side

Boat on its side
You are thirsty

But that lie
It has no face but the waves

I can only sit and watch the desperation of wood
In people’s eyes


The Clontarf Road

Seaweed make love
To the rocks
And to the bicycle wheel
Amid an orchestra of sounds

Old man gripping rock
The Oyster
The clasping of your hands
And wonders why

The winds blow ictus
O Brian Boru
The double flying swords of ignis

Seaweed make love
To the rocks
And to the bicycle wheel
Amid an orchestra of sounds

Old man eyes
What are you looking for
Along the oakum long twisting
Rolling peer

Boru is dead
Amongst the double bloody flying smoke and swords Clontarf
I close your eyes
In B-flat minor

The colour of money


The Dove That Begged For Clothes

Love is a stinging vein
The butterfly that becomes
The bee
The flower that dies quietly
In the dew

Morning is a shiver
A dove
That begs for clothes
Obedient is the city stripped naked

Women are the backbone
The pomegranate opened
The treasure in the clouds
That launched a thousand ships

Verbose mustard sky

When the butterfly rejects
Hurry quickly
Before its wings
Become the dawn

She stood there naked
Like a dazed cut flower


When Love Is A Crime

Water you are old
Yet you rose

Out of the shattered well
As the world stomped on her axis

And we put love into a bottle
And emptied out the sea

And we bound the human hand
Until touch was but a crime

When I was young
I saw it

The ancient red

And it stood above the stones
Like a cloud that never moved

When I was blind
The world was deaf

When we are sharp
Alone comes the blunt

Remember that!
And remember this

You savage of teeth

Love cracks the hand
That holds down the sea

Love will crack your mouth


Wicker Tree

A dark mood hung over the door
Like an earwig
Stuck in paint

Like a plastic toy soldier
That melts in your hand
The day before Christmas

The day before pain was born
Into the dark wood oil of her eyes
That launched my life

Before I was born
Into her face an arrow
Long like an epic Sunday

That drank tea
From the front garden willow
That soul you often see through

Plaiting its fingers
Through the glass



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