Wednesday, November 18, 2020

Santander By John Doyle


 
Hinterland music hangs like olive trees,
which shroud and shadow parts of town
un-tamed, and the minutes around us, pink and crisp
in setting sun; these are the dialects of Fascist, Communist,
 
real and sudden across blanket-swept age,
the flags roaring,
the howl of sea shoved in obese sand upon me -
yet, the translations I expect - jangling knives and forks
 
an encore from Cafe Erica,
mumbling waves - the beach's drowning choir.
Is there more? Past the Casino I shed my sandals,
take tarmac heat and give last rites
 
to the shore - ancient music that hides
in bloody-red and icy-blue









John Doyle became a Mod again in the summer of 2017 to fight off his impending mid-life crisis; whether this has been a success remains to be seen. He has has two collections published to date, A Stirring at Dusk in 2017, and Songs for Boys Called Wendell Gomez in 2018, both on PSKI's Porch.

He is based in Maynooth, County Kildare, Ireland. All he asks is that you leave your guns at the door and tie up your horses before your enter.

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