The Morrigan

“Glom! and Glaim!”
She whispers
these names
Over the moss green hills and misting rain

she turns
from blue
to grey

in the cliffs of moor in the form
of her cattle crow and her red eye
albino steed

the deeds are known
by the ancient throne’s
magicians whose bones

are cast
at last
with her phantom reign
she moved through glass
and reached out to me

calling out over

the fields
the planes
the infinite terrains
of her chorus and the
daylight’s

final remains

with the eel
the wolf
the red heifer
the folk
all in unison
all in a clashing stride a-midst a blind stampede
still moving in three, still living to grieve
still in rivers of her marrow slithering through seas

until it’s on and on
while my eyes are closed and dawn
is intertwined in the silver linings of time and thought

into the oceans
she pushed me off

(last 3 lines spoken)

---let music continue for 15 seconds, couple measures--

she was standing there, trying to show someone
how to pry open the gate hidden in
mid-day, tarry smokestacks
there were two kids wearing Dallas cowboys hats
while staring out the rental car passenger seat
I see her form whizzing by rolling over stones
saying something to me in the midst of her rivers and valleys
she is chanting some kind of ancient poetry
driving me into her oceans
swimming in the storms of her battle torn history
seeing my ancestors breathing in divinity
sitting on stone gravel and nodding to me
pointing at the horizon’s chaotic placement of stones,
still hearing her call, chanting her victory
with the crow letting them know that

I am not an enemy,
I am an Irishman