All those limbs and bodies,
Dreaming of spiders
Paris Hilton
A thing will come apart in time.
In the foyer of the Hilton hotel blood trickling down the inside of my bare legs sticking out of my duffle coat,
Splitting,
Dividing,
I once bought a golden plastic hairbrush from the middle aisle, over time it lost its gold paint in flakes, to be found sticking to soft cheeks, on newborn lips. The thing breaks in two when dealing with knots. I stick with it, where else would it go?
I and I is not one,
And two is many pieces.
Demigod
I am making dinner, a moment’s attention diverted from observing N &E.
Enter into the hall. A flood. Jars, scraps of paper, the unruly effects of un-contained water. Little people, delighted.
Moments later, I am cleaning up after dinner. Enter sunroom. N& E have the tub of vaseline and are gleefully smoothing it over their legs (wegs).
DB outside on the grass, “I just weed in on my shorts!”
N looking on in awe
“I need to wee outside!”
Seconds later
“Mum! This is wet!”
E up to something in the garage, constructive no doubt!
No he is weeing too, no doubt on his shorts.
“Mum, these are wet!”
N is naked
“Mum is it windy enough to fly a kite? “
Me- “No it’s not windy”
It’s blissfully sunny and I can hear the waves lapping on the shore, a reminder of our little idyllic islanded state in the universe.
Val and Min are playing.
DB found treasure in the garage. The hunt has escalated.
E in a funk about not finding summer pants.
“Mum, can I have shorts in bed?”
Peace little demigod you have all you need
He stands up on a chair outside and shakes his little fists in rage
N to E
“stop hitting your Mum”
DB found further treasure: A box of buttons.
Three little gods squatting on the tarmac designing a new world.
N “Can we?”
Me “Yes’
N “Thank you!”
Then E wees into the new world and floods it all.
Diamonds
Some days dazzle.
Diamonds on the water
July
At some point he disappeared into the abyss, the vast blue.
Far from dry land.
There’s no coming back.
Why do we call the unpeopled places lonely?
I imagine him happily floating far out at sea, friends with the Wandering Albatross and the Little Tern.
With nothing solid to hold onto, in the vast fluid ocean, no specifics, no nameable object.
Gone is the whole catalogue of particular things.
If he ever touches land again, his strength will leave him and his bones will turn to dust.
I would cry but where does that leave us…Back here. Emotions are blunted by indifference.
Mute. Mum.
There was a time when he said that July was his least favourite month because of the lull in bird song.
That is such a specific thing, the sound of identifiable birds in time.
Empty that out
and that,
Along with every other thought
where do they go?
Some go into me
Some I have passed on to M, a new archiver of particular things
Others, into the great blue before and after
When I see him he is a shipwreck, a shatter of bones, strewn
Which is active, mind? body?
It feels like punishment to see him, like punishment to him, his being
And yet,
this too will pass.
And what do we learn?
Softness
Stillness
The feeling of time ebbing away
Drawn out, last breaths
in
out
years pass
Maybe we learn how to be with the dead,
that the dead never leave us
the raw life giving love fuels us in everything we do
on a rock
with feeling layers
its beautiful
because it hurts
Gravity is everywhere
But less in some places
Dudio
This always seems like a good idea, and then I immediately regret it, in time I will be grateful for it again.
Ho!
Tour of Ruth E Lyons sculptures with Newpark Comprehensive
photos credit: Kevin Kirwan
A cold February morning, a bus ride to three sculptures near Dublin. Wave Junction (Quantum Logistics Park, Fingal), Iontaise Iontas (Colaiste Raithin, Bray, Co. Wicklow), SUPERUNIFICATION (Honeypark, DunLaoghaire)
What a great day. Curious, open, young minds. Thank you for visiting my sculptures, hanging out with them, touching them, sitting on them and keeping them company on a cold winter’s morning.
Which is your favourite work?
me- the stone one, it's very friendly
If this were an emotion (SUPERUNIFICATION), what would it be?
me- Joy
Can you give us a quote?
me- Dream big!
Lucky people to be guided by such great educators, artist Kevin Kirwan and colleagues.
Abhainn Gharbh
A sheet of sleet beneath my feet,
Roll spit shiver
The rough river,
Always there
Animal
DB turns to me and vomits. She is sitting in the front of the car, head down so fonts of puke pour out of her into the gap between our seats enveloping handbrake and gearbox. I grapple with the handbrake and pull over, hop out into the rain to go to let her out. The door is locked from the inside, so is N’s.
Voice Ukrainian neighbour “is everything ok?”
The car starts rolling down the hill. I run around and hop back in and drive slowly home resigned as DB continues to empty herself out into the carcass of the animal.
Now it’s smell is more appropriate to its name!
Ho!
ROCK SPIRIT KID
Later can I have some right now? -E
B by M
Portrait of B by M
Good bones, good stones
Good stones, good bones
Ice-cream
Distant voice
-Oh God! Oh God help me, I’m going to die!
-Someone please talk to me!
Nurse
-Would you like some ice-cream?
Voice
-Oh you are just the person I wanted to see! Are you a doctor?
Nurse
-No I’m a nurse. Do you need a doctor?
Voice
-No, I don’t think so. What do you think I need?
Nurse
-Ice-cream