Rest in Peace John Montague Irish Poet

Posting some of his works

ADAM's APPLE

Her skin is smooth
as peach or appleblossom
-or a snakeskin.

The snake's fangs gleam,
the fruit glistens
as warmly in her palm

as ever it shone
on the holy tree.
He savours it

so slowly,
it sticks in
our throat forever.

PILGRIMS

A warm summer evening, near Multyfarnham.
Two young pilgrims, on their way home
from the all-night vigil of the Mission
Short-cut down the railway lines.
Near dawn, they drop their shriven heads down
On the rails. To die like Elizabethans,
Two torsos yielding two bright crowns.

PSYCHIC SURGERY

There are times when
one should be able
to pluck off one's head
like a dented or worn
helmet, straight from
the nape and collarbone
and place it firmly down

in the bed of a flowing stream
of clear, clean, cold water
coursing and spuming through
the sour and stale compartments
of the brain, dulled eardrums
bleared eyesockets, benumbed
nostrils, barely open,

and then set it back again
on the base of the shoulders:
well tamped down, of course,
the laved skin and mouth,
the marble of the eyes
rinsed and ready
for love, for prophecy.

>>8823853
Ah feck. Great poet 87 is a grand age tho to be fair

>>8823859
>>8823862
>>8823880
>prose with
>lines that
>break every so
>often