Michael Farrell

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The Lord's My Green Shepherd

      The lord is my problem; an interrupted mission; baroque theorem
    ecstatic cognition. It was a sea place with copper in the air: I lived
there, hanging over the balcony, my honey blonde hair. It was a fish
    place for spearing, a crab and a gull place. We took nothing with us
     but found things there
                             They had a hospital and a secondhand shop
   The trees were bare, but the walls took messages from the artists
                           passing through. There were books to be made. He's
twining with
            ivy and flowers from Turkey (the old country). He brings us to the
        river; we have a job and no fireplace, I throw the deeds to the acres
    in the fire. My husband lost a bullock, my cupboards floated out to
          sea, I thought I would be murdered (there was a madwoman shot
police; but when the staff ran to her help, there was only a bundle of
    clothes, harm no one of good will, the bombers say
                                                                             Curl your hair
    in the manner of Eve, wear a strawberry beanie like a Russian refugee
    There was no good grass there, ask at the pub, where's the good grass
    At the hospital, locked in the secret ward, so no one knows about the
       disease. Winning cardgames, breaking horses, well that
      was somewhere
    else … but reputations follow like an Apollo (a nickname
                                                                                        Fields of pistachio
        emeralds block the sun. I rang the bell, he didn't know how
    and the other thinks that heat can be contained like a square of cement
(I like a flat monument). As velvet as a waistcoat. Why laugh or mock
      The tongue soon grows filaments, that in turn accrue pollen, while
    overpaid moths ding up and down like a mobile. The lord was cast more
than decades ago. Divvied up in portions for those with telescopes and misused bell towers. Below the telescopes the skaters twirl their
         mirrorball stunts, shrieking, ‘How do you like these abs?’ and the
           gulls come in with affection and then realise they don't understand. A bird's
  abs are taken for granted
                                      A baby was born during the play; all
         my lost clothes turned up. There was kelp for long stretches, and clematis
             grew on the beach. How do you rollerblade me now? With prayers
    from the churches and temples, with watermelon that stands in for bread. I
         have a drink with a piece of the building, and wish I could have been
               there when it was still in place. It was later retrieved by the
      architect. But then the
architect became an actor, and the actor became a lawyer, and I narrowly
missed becoming a priest by spilling a white rabbit. There were goldfish
              in the bay today, the ship was taking a rest so the sheep could
      enjoy the sunshine. Two sheep were saved, two old ewes, mother and
           daughter. As they would tell anyone who would listen
      a lot of slaughter goes on in the background. People began to avoid them, and
they would bleat after them ‘who's that jolly jumbuck, I'd like to
       have a beer with old regrets?’, as they pushed their
           shopping trolley through the sand, nibbling on
              anything half green

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