Theatre of the Self (for my old pal Al)
Incense
& music
candle light
& stained glass
these
my religion
the church
of the senses
my only existence
lost
in the sweet jangle
of the swinging brazier
prayer
forming in the air
real & tangible
as a ghost
coiling &
uncoiling
like a snake
made of smoke
wrapping itself
around the choir's
sweet voices
love to see
the words
clothed
in smelly smoke
ascend
the perfumed air
building a stairway
of music
made suddenly
visible
[...] Read more
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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