Tara of Today

Chimneyed roof tops
spreading out before the eyes
burred tongued men seeking
tall stouts in the midst of music

children playing upon the concrete

games of their own device
with scattered cans
littered upon the ground

In the distance

rushing cars chase pedestrians
to the safe shelter
of waiting sidewalks

A man, pack over shoulder

whistles merrily
as he traverses the length
of the dark alleyway.

A couple

A tenement away
exchange angry shouts
as silently their children watch on

The swarms of little ones

packed tightly away for the night
make faces through the windows
at their friends, a window over

Dublin, writer's town

with it's dirt and grit
works it's way under my fingernails
and spills down through my pen

to splash, unbidden

on the page below
A town of dark shadows
and flickering lights

of angered shouts and merry song

Oh! Sweet Paradox
how can you be both
light and dark, angry and merry

with your motor cars
and your red bricked chimneys
out of place
in this land of green hills

Are you writer or mason

or loutish drunk,
cab driver, banker,
or merely out of luck?
or are you more

than the sum of your parts?
an unsolvable puzzle

of a workman's town with a poet's soul. 6/28/92