Salaud! This system of gay abandon,
A crosshatch of switchblades and branded skin.
The gorgon eye does not choose at random,
Her silent witness, her fresh bloodless kin.
A crosshatch of switchblades and branded skin
Philtre Primavera in knotted sun.
Her silent witness, her fresh bloodless kin,
Molest the bandwidth wherein she is spun.
Filtered praestate in knotted sun,
Fucks through fiber optic, inviting those
Who molest the bandwidth, dopamine overrun,
To this rite of spring in binary clothes.
Look through fiber optic. Lo! I say. Lo!
Useless hagioscope, a useless cup.
In this rite of spring, binarily clothe,
The dogman finds he’s just run out of luck.
Hard to place ourselves
‘tween the toilet paper diagnostic
Of the elderly dead,
Their pus-filled alveolar sacs
And the fecund feed.
Where the code’s made flesh
And the flesh made code.
Are you short of breath?
For the dope bell tolls.
While, talon upon branch,
The cherry blossom’s blooming bird
At the turn of this Covid Spring.
Cock young house sparrows incessant
Bookend poor mademoiselle
With gross dimorphism.
Golden tresses and a colour fair
Bless this Alpine lake.
Mec, gros, ferme ta gueule, frère.
My carrion carcass
Happily ever after
The morning of the flood
For the lark
‘spite malignant Tuam
Memory lost upon the loom
Daniel Whelan grew and developed as a musician and poet in the rural idylls of Southern Carlow, Ireland. In the foothills of Mount Leinster, he learned finger style guitar and developed his literary taste using the early 20th century as his portal. His writing style developed out of a stiff Catholic upbringing and an inherent desperation to outgrow its fettered approach to love, human nature and emotion. Now at a point of departure, he attempts, in poetry and song, to find a place for true human experience as the waves of the digital age encroach.