A Drunk Man by Free Derry Corner.
the clambering spires, broad traitor river
full of eels and bicycles
some black surrealist arabesque.
The mountains – a flat naïve painting,
the skies – a kinetoscope in motion.
Leave behind the burn and the dream
of the drink in the blood,
the common madness,
the building sites we hid within,
the bridge under which we sang,
the lake at the madhouse,
the train tracks.
Leave behind the ghost trajectories
of lost relationships,
memories of when we were
the corner boys and the attic drinkers
drunk on rooftops beneath hanging comets
and the same mad stars,
where fortified with firewater,
we played at revolutionaries
in the clothes of our fathers,
The nights we were invincible.
And I’ve carved my fuckin’ heart and soul
into the white of that gable wall
that roars to the world in stone
we could have been free.