{"id":1817,"date":"2012-10-22T14:48:20","date_gmt":"2012-10-22T14:48:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=1817"},"modified":"2012-10-22T14:48:20","modified_gmt":"2012-10-22T14:48:20","slug":"seamas-carraher1012","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/seamas-carraher1012\/","title":{"rendered":"Seamas Carraher, 10\/12"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Assassin’s Shot<\/strong>
\nFor Orsola Casagrande & Antonio Gramsci
\nwho wrote many letters<\/p>\n

Then it has come.
\ni have shuddered in my fluids
\nbetween your thighs,
\nthe ceiling upended and the time passed.
\n“Throw it all away”, i say.
\nHere’s birth. A finger. An eye.
\nHere, with both faces,
\ni am lost inside things,
\none foot in the past
\nthe other rootless in its futures.
\nLove, they are driving my nerves
\nin convoys
\nto the edge of my mind.
\ni return in the Fall in a littering
\nlike music
\nfilling the universe with complaints.
\ni am inside you and your voice returns to me
\nthe mystery of my organs
\nthis tissue erected like a last cry
\nover the barricades.
\ni say too:
\n“How i am inside my me, love, that’s inside you,”
\nand it is another assassin’s shot puncturing the dark.
\nIt can never end.
\nWe are shouting at the stars
\nin our marvellous complexity,
\nthese leaves crisscrossing with veins
\nall the directions of my life.
\ni touch myself with your finger.
\nYou who have called me
\nin the innocence of your light among the fuses,
\nyour party membership like another cross
\nwe carry inside:
\na confusion of colour.
\nSomething is moving in here.
\nBefore the earth unsettles its skin.
\nThere are no words
\nfor
\nthis.<\/p>\n

Homeland For The Dead<\/strong><\/p>\n

Love, i am like a bird among the stones
\nand my concrete wings
\nare bursting from your embrace.
\nSee this junkyard nailed to my face
\nand i am a man of hats headless among the neon,
\nanother conquistador in search of a home.
\nIn this way i wet your lips
\nand the summer comes inside me
\nand i am so cruel
\nin my fighting all these shadows.
\ni am beating these ruins to death after the missile lands.
\ni am kicking these corpses at my own dead face
\nand i am a man launched at the century
\nlike a ship crashing on the rocks.
\nHere, then, are the people, an uplifting
\nof wind among the trees.
\nNow my hands are in the air.
\nHow hard to hear with all this noise,
\ntheir incessant machinery.
\nThen it is your fingers
\nand they are opening in my middle
\nand i am soft and moist
\nand in the room of my unfolding
\nthe silence flies away and look!
\ni am walking once again,
\nanother miracle in ice and bone
\nwalking all the way
\nfrom this cold place
\ncalled democracy:
\nthis homeland
\nfor
\nthe
\ndead.<\/p>\n

In An Instant Of War, Almost (2)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Like this i am counting the beatings
\nin the wreckage of your skin.
\ni withdraw from your wetness
\nto unleash one last war in violin strings
\nand floods no plumber can fix.
\n“Rest, rest,” you say to me
\nbut i am meeting myself
\nboth man and woman,
\nin the lost crevices of my parts.
\nIt is so strange, love, to find myself
\ni am human! after all this time.
\ni am unburdening my self between the
\ncash registers,
\nthe last of my race
\nin a season unwinding.
\nIt is like this for us to speak with our throat cut.
\nTo unmarch myself into another embrace.
\nTo stand like a child at the point
\nof my declaration.
\nTo say, once, in the revolution of our
\nnamelessness:
\nit is over! among the ruins and these suits strung like christmas lights along the avenue.
\nThis Avenue of Lost Souls.
\nIn this way, love, it all returns
\nand you stand like
\nan angel
\nat the tip of my desire:
\nin this instant
\nwhether it is
\nyou
\nor
\ni.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

S\u00e9amas Carraher was born in Dublin, Ireland in 1956. He lives on the Ballyogan estate, in south County Dublin, at present.<\/em><\/p>\n

Recent publications include poems in The Camel Saloon, ditch, Bone Orchard Poetry, Istanbul Literary Review and Pemmican. Previously his work has been published in Left Curve (No. 13, 14 & 20), Compages, Poetry Ireland Review, & the Anthology of Irish Poetry.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Assassin’s Shot For Orsola Casagrande & Antonio Gramsci who wrote many letters Then it has come. i have shuddered in my fluids between your thighs, the ceiling upended and the time passed. “Throw it all away”, i say. Here’s birth. A finger. An eye. Here, with both faces, i am lost inside things, one […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1817","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nSeamas Carraher, 10\/12 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/seamas-carraher1012\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Seamas Carraher, 10\/12 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"The Assassin’s Shot For Orsola Casagrande & Antonio Gramsci who wrote many letters Then it has come. i have shuddered in my fluids between your thighs, the ceiling upended and the time passed. “Throw it all away”, i say. 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