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John Fitzgerald
John Fitzgerald

560 Followers

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May 3, 2022

PROBE

PROBE I used to clone her in balsa wood with eyeball beads and willow leaf blades. I used to whiplash her behind my poll and cast her out to the jaws of the water. We met in a cabbage garden above the dancing midge, with puzzled heads like dozy secrets on slender stalks. Ever wrapping heads in the rustle of my dawn. She draws Euclid lines in golds and darks and purple hues, the devil’s wings in torpedo blues. The midge echoes all that jazz and swings around the cabbage head a Hustle and the Running Man. Two fingers rise in a slug’s slow crawl, fingers in a rubber glove inside my head. A woman is peeling back the cabbage leaves searching for the slime trails, peeling back the cabbage leaves in the garden of the dragonfly.

Poetry

1 min read

Poetry

1 min read


Apr 24, 2021

Dear Guardian Angels

Dear Guardian Angels, … I remembered him this way — not long in this world sucking on my fingers. A sandpapery intimacy. I took his horns when I was 9 and laid on the caustic -stick too long. The small dark fountain spewing from the top of his head surprised me and I…

Parkinsons

3 min read

Dear Guardian Angels
Dear Guardian Angels
Parkinsons

3 min read


Apr 25, 2020

A Fish Dreams of Tulips

Why don’t we build a tram line from Abbeyfeale to the HANGINGING COWSLIP-LIP GARDENS OF TOOREEN-OOREEN? This is a confession box not a suggestion box says the priest. Is there anything else…sins… anymore sins? I can’t think of any says Jack. That’s how Jack tells the story, that the whole…

Songs

4 min read

Songs

4 min read


Apr 14, 2020

The Remains

Heads or toes no difference In the turf foot we lean on the other in four and sixes. And we dream the hand dangle long fingered alive in a tick tock of math, the quick kiss of fingertip to limpet shell the blind raking callus across our fetal hump. Lay down in the nightjar’s egg and brush your lips long the palm of the old man before he retreats into the dry peat. and our midging armies drift in plumes of consciousness.

Poetry

1 min read

Poetry

1 min read


Apr 14, 2020

Monuments, Pt. 1

It is thought cabbage was domesticated by the Celts somewhere in Europe around Knocknagoshel. I imagine it was running wild before that and if you were a hunter chasing it downhill you were at a disadvantage. On each summer solstice, tourists still race against heads of cabbage down these wild…

Kerry

3 min read

Kerry

3 min read

John Fitzgerald

John Fitzgerald

560 Followers
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