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unmarked
like every lover's grave
this field
rises up
in rain-soaked weeds
with no invite to come
but a toast
in moss
jasmine
and sage
the smoke
a dead man's remembrance
of flesh-rot days
and nights
of battered tongues
and silent teeth
blacked out
mississippi
malt liquor
or guinness
here
is good for you
that
i believe
but 360s
over and over
with white feathers
scattered
on loch derg
dromineer
and his stagger
to shore
mumbling: cure cure
or a way
simply back
to the water
is another pub
another tribute
to ireland's greats:
heaney now surely
amongst behan
and the rest.
if only drink
i could a fortnight's
stay to crawl
and remember
escape: blood
drenched or
pockets w/ gold
vibrations i
capitalize the
ether, send up
the blanked-out
stare. instead
a mapped-out
lineage, a buttoning
out the door.
Born and raised in South Central Los Angeles, Lawrence Welsh first hitchhiked to New Mexico and Texas in 1989. Five years later, he moved to El Paso, where he still lives. He's published four books of poetry. Two new books are forthcoming in 2007: Skull Highway (La Alameda Press) and Walking Backwards to Santa Fe (Pitchfork Press). His work has appeared in more than 175 national and regional magazines.
A winner of the Bardsong Press Celtic Voice Writing Award in Poetry, he's an associate professor of English at El Paso Community College. Photo by Richard Baron.