East Point

by

Hay Machine

(in memory of Dermot Pierce)

Making such a something
out of such a dump of nothing
is the hardest thing of all
and it gives us all hope

The artist mixed his colours
and stretched the canvas surely
his reclining naked model
more a reminder of the task
than a source of inspiration

That landfill
from the Clontarf Road for years
mangy
where some genius planted crooked christmas trees
rooted in broken cavity blocks
buried along the embankment

Dermot Pierce released its (methane) spirit
with imagination intellect and will
and his rubblemound
yielded hope and dreams realised
Cherub and Seraph
palette and paint
carrying the torches

Cobbled
with straight lines curves water and aluminium visors
suspended ceilings raised floors
and carpet allowances
priced for all the whinging fortune-five-hundred misers
silvery-grey and black when it rains
detailed down to the monogrammed drains
shoreline walks and rooftop tennis
Bolivian stalks lasagne bandwidth attitude and Guinness

Water into wine
aspirations into covenants
the Russians have a saying
that you shouldn't eat the blossom
(wait until the fruit is fuller)
breathe its scent of course
and feast yourself upon its colour

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Voci di giochi
by: Presti Salvatore
from: Palermo, Italy

To visit all of Hay Machine's poems, click HERE

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