tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-731825947635985572024-02-19T00:53:40.459-08:00Danny Fahey's WritingDanny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.comBlogger895125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-62866622644713723902022-11-06T21:50:00.001-08:002022-11-06T21:50:09.823-08:00another review for the Christmas Maze<p>
</p><h1><b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The Christmas Maze by
Danny Fahey – a Review by David Collis</span></b></h1>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Why do we
seek to be good, to make the world a better place? Why do we seek to be ethical
– to be altruistic, and even heroic? Danny Fahey’s <i>The Christmas Maze: Where
Hope is Found</i> gives a narrative meditation on the place of hope in
childhood, and what becomes of it. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The central
character to Fahey’s story, the young boy Matthew, takes on a burden of guilt
seemingly too heavy for any shoulders. Tricked by a man in a van promising a
puppy, Matthew inadvertently allows his sister to be kidnapped – subject to
horrifying fates that are only magnified by their lack of confirmation. It’s
left to the imagination. This guilt resonates in Matthew, an existential hunger
to make amends for what he allowed to happen to his sister. He must find and
solve the Christmas Maze to rescue his sister. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As an
author, Fahey draws upon archetypal narrative elements and sequences. Matthew
embarks upon a journey to find his sister. Along the way he overcomes a series
of ethical challenges. Like a quantum particle resolving into a particular
state, Matthew creates his personality as he navigates a series of ethical
challenges. He is guided by an unflinching grasp of courage, determination and
compassion. Like hobbits, pilgrims, and heroes of a thousand stories, Matthew’s
search shows him coming into being as an ethical person. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The blurry reality
of this story, moving between psychological and external realities, meditates
on the power of virtue in the face of adult badness. The world is dead if it is
controlled by the powerful, but children can interrupt power if they will it.
The world can be refreshed through courage, determination and compassion which
are more powerful than power. Echoing the ethos of Hayao Miyazaki’s transformative
child characters, Fahey’s hero Matthew, a child, is able to transform reality
in a way that no adult can. Psychological resolution unfolds alongside this
transformation of reality. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Notwithstanding
its heavy themes of kidnapping and implied pedophilia and murder, <i>The
Christmas Maze</i> is a book for children. In the best fairy tale traditions,
Fahey does not treat child readers with kid gloves. Rather, he trusts child
readers to cope with brutal realities – of searing regrets, overwhelming guilt,
and an all-consuming search to make amends. Child readers will recognise the
author of <i>The Christmas Maze</i> as a storyteller who looks them in the eye
and speaks candidly to them as real people. By not shying away from dark
themes, Fahey believes in children, believing they can become adults capable of
seeing the world in all its light and shade. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The
Christmas Maze is also a story for adults. It reminds us that the child lays
down the reality that the adult inhabits – where childhood decisions establish
character and set the framework for adulthood. The child is the parent to the
adult. And the adult must, if they are to remain spiritually alive, remember
the child whose decisions defined them. Through the story of The Christmas
Maze. Adult readers must ask: in the face of alluring cynicism, do they believe
that courage, determination and compassion are more powerful than power?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-13459653873919491812022-11-05T17:22:00.000-07:002022-11-05T17:22:02.716-07:00The Christmas Maze<p>
</p><div class="page" title="Page 1">
<div class="layoutArea">
<div class="column">
<p><span style="color: rgb(89.019610%, 52.156870%, 3.529412%); font-family: 'Arial'; font-size: 16.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">The Christmas Maze: Where Hope is
Found
</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'; font-size: 14.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">By Danny Fahey
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: rgb(89.019610%, 52.156870%, 3.529412%); font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">Description
</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">As a little boy, Matthew watched as the stranger drove away in the
Valiant, with his sister sitting in the passenger seat on their way to get
them a puppy. As the Valiant turned the wrong corner, Matthew
realised there was no puppy-his sister had been kidnapped. Now
Matthew must find and save her. To do that he must solve the
Christmas Maze because if you solved the Christmas Maze then all
that you wished for would come true. All he wished for was for his
sister to be safe and at home.
</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">Of course, finding The Christmas Maze would be the hardest thing he
had ever done...
</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">Solving the Maze harder still...
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: rgb(89.019610%, 52.156870%, 3.529412%); font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">About the Author
</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">Danny Fahey works at Trinity College/University of Melbourne where he
is the Associate Dean, Teaching & Learning, Pathways School. Danny
has over 20 years’ experience working in education as a Drama teacher
and theatre-in education performer. Danny is happily married with 2
grown-up children and a cat named Lenny. He has had three previous
novels published by now defunct publishers. Danny is also a published
poet who enjoys reading and writing, has acted in a film or two, spends
his spare time managing (just) his small backyard food forest and
promises himself one day he will return to occasionally painting up a
mess. He is an okay cook but not a particularly good driver of motor
vehicles.
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: rgb(89.019610%, 52.156870%, 3.529412%); font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">Categories
</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">Novel; middle grade; young teen; Christmas; historical
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: rgb(89.019610%, 52.156870%, 3.529412%); font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">Readership
</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">Middle Grade (Young Teen)
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: rgb(89.019610%, 52.156870%, 3.529412%); font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">Contents
</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">24 chapters and an epilogue.
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: rgb(89.019610%, 52.156870%, 3.529412%); font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">Release Details
</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">World-Wide: 30 November 2022
</span></p>
</div>
<div class="column">
<p><span style="font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">Published by IFWG Publishing Australia
(AU/NZ/UK) and IFWG Publishing
International (North America/Canada)
264 pp
</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">229mm x 152mm
Australian/International English<br />
</span><span style="font-family: 'Arial'; font-size: 10.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">US Paperback</span><span style="font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">:<br />
ISBN: 978-1-922856-20-3<br />
RRP: US$17.99, CND$20.99
</span><span style="font-family: 'Arial'; font-size: 10.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">AU/NZ/UK Paperback</span><span style="font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">:<br />
ISBN: 978-1-922556-99-8<br />
RRP: AU$29.95, NZ$31.99 UK£13.99
</span><span style="font-family: 'Arial'; font-size: 10.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">eBook formats
</span><span style="font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">(Kindle/EPUB/iBook/Kobo/NOOK)<br />
RRP: US$5.99, AU$5.99, NZ$5.99,
UK£5.99<br />
Please refer to Publisher for other prices
and ISBN codes
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: rgb(60.784320%, 73.333330%, 34.901960%); font-family: 'Arial'; font-size: 10.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">All inquires about this book, our terms
of trade, or publishing with us:<br />
</span><span style="font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">SQ Mag Pty Ltd<br />
trading as IFWG Publishing Australia,
IFWG Publishing Intl, & IPI Comics
Melbourne, Australia
</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">Email: </span><span style="color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">ifwg@ifwgpublishing.com<br />
</span><span style="font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">Tel.: +61 4 2173 9061<br />
Website: </span><span style="color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">http://www.ifwgaustralia.com
</span><span style="font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">ABN: 50 614 249 795
</span></p>
<p><span style="color: rgb(60.784320%, 73.333330%, 34.901960%); font-family: 'Arial'; font-size: 10.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">Distributors
</span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: 'Arial'; font-size: 10.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">UK/Europe</span><span style="font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">: Gazelle Book Services
</span><span style="color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">https://gazellebookservices.co.uk
</span><span style="font-family: 'Arial'; font-size: 10.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">US/Canada</span><span style="font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">: IPG
</span><span style="color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">https://www.ipgbook.com<br />
</span><span style="font-family: 'Arial'; font-size: 10.000000pt; font-weight: 700;">Australia/New Zealand</span><span style="font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">: Novella
Distributors (NZ Novella via Wheelers)
</span><span style="color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'ArialMT'; font-size: 10.000000pt;">https://bookstores.novelladistribution.com
.au
</span></p>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-18480700647553285072022-11-02T23:04:00.001-07:002022-11-02T23:04:05.560-07:002nd review of The Christmas Maze<p>
</p><p class="Body"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 15.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This
story takes you on a mystical journey with Matthew a young boy whose little
sister was abducted while playing with Matthew in the front yard of their home.
Matthew blames himself and is desperate to find Lucy and bring her safely home.
</span><span style="font-size: 15.0pt;"></span></p>
<p class="Body"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 15.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He
remembers his parents reading him a story about the Christmas Maze where
anything no matter how terrible can be reversed and resolved. Matthew sets off
on his journey to find the Maze and so find Lucy and bring her safely home.</span><span style="font-size: 15.0pt;"></span></p>
<p class="Body"><span style="font-size: 15.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="Body"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 15.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This
is a beautifully written story that keeps you emotionally involved on every
step of the journey.</span><span style="font-size: 15.0pt;"></span></p>
<p class="Body"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 15.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A
thoroughly satisfying and enjoyable read and one I highly recommend.</span></p>
<p class="Body"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 15.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="Body"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 15.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">by
Mary Clark</span><span style="font-size: 15.0pt;"></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-66989557515727824602022-11-02T22:55:00.006-07:002022-11-03T23:47:06.928-07:00First review of my new novel The Christmas Maze<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-US">Redemption and recovery in Danny Fahey’s
<i>The Christmas Maze</i></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">There are few things more magical for a
child than the fantasy and mythology of Christmas. This is the idea at the
heart of a novel that combines the dissonant suburban world of Australia in the
mid-twentieth century with the received mythology of European Christmastime. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Despite the magical themes and lush,
festive folklore, Fahey’s novel begins with two disturbing scenes of childhood
separation and angst that set the main character, Matthew, on his journey to
make everything right again. The only way he can restore the safety of his
family life is through the Christmas Maze – the place where all children can be
redeemed for their misdeeds, and become whole again.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">On his quest, Matthew encounters characters
who embody literary archetypes, and who weave his story into a bigger, timeless
narrative. Fahey weaves rich mythology and folklore into his tale, and his own
creations are seamlessly interwoven with those that are already
well-established. Matthew becomes a character who, through his ordinariness,
becomes resilient, empathic and determined, learning how his own experiences
are informed by others who went before him.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The story twists and turns through dreamscapes
and scenes that destabilise the reader’s assumptions in ways that are sometimes
delightful and sometimes confronting – all pushing towards the goal of the
Maze. This push is underpinned by a sense of loss that threatens to tip into tragedy,
and some scenes in the novel are almost unbearably sad – relieved in part by
Fahey’s characteristic humour — pushing the reader on towards the sense that
joy is waiting at the end of the quest.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Fahey’s balance of the tragic with the
joyous is skillful, and as a writer he walks a line as precarious as that of his hero’s own circus tightrope. The story is as informed by his own
understanding of long-established storytelling traditions as it is by Fahey’s
own vivid and fantastical originality. As readers we are hooked into Matthew’s
story by his own attempts to grapple with the situation in which he finds
himself, and thus the choices that face him in his attempt to reclaim
wholeness. Fahey explores Matthew’s angst with depth and complexity.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">A story like this promises much in terms of
restoration and the subversion of our expectations, and delivers both. For
persisting through the difficulty of the quest and the discomfort of its
origins, the reader is well-recompensed with an ending that is as joyous as it
is unexpected.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">This novel explores all the uncertainty and
joy of childhood, delivering a Christmas journey that is – as the season demands
– restorative. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">by Dr. Miriam Nicholls.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-72355058697537263382021-04-12T22:58:00.001-07:002021-04-12T22:58:07.460-07:00New Publisher<p> https://ifwgaustralia.com/2021/04/13/new-acquisition-the-christmas-maze-by-danny-fahey/</p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-11167610675061606862021-03-29T21:10:00.003-07:002021-03-29T21:10:11.409-07:00Sometimes, mother:<p> </p><div class="postrow has_after_content">
<div class="content">
<div id="post_message_2339416">
<blockquote class="postcontent restore ">
Mother sometimes<br />
and the fault lies in the formation, cliffs<br />
and troughs spring out of connections formed <br />
in plates rather than seamlessly. Ruptures occur<br />
a face can feel as if it is floundering in sand<br />
breathing in such cases resembles drowning<br />
a hand waving but the signal signals to siblings<br />
run, back out the backdoor, revisit friends <br />
once more, feed yourselves, dress yourselves <br />
for heaven’s sake, save yourselves.<br />
<br />
Mother sometimes <br />
what I wish for, which must always remain <br />
separate from what is wished for me, <br />
radiates outwards, silence can be a tool <br />
to suppress hurt, I learnt that lesson <br />
a long time ago; words emitted are not butterflies <br />
free to cavort and land where they desire, words <br />
are barbs hungry to grip and snare – your eyes<br />
have always been twin pools<br />
I hated seeing my reflection within.<br />
<br />
Mother sometimes<br />
I catch a certain look that draws upon you<br />
I hear the curtain rings clink<br />
see the light diminish, know your thoughts<br />
have returned to the realm before<br />
in that barefoot paddock where wounds<br />
are formed by circumstances never understood<br />
like having a brother who died<br />
and so took pride of place in a manner<br />
you never could.
</blockquote>
</div>
</div>
</div>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-65782919464955761482021-03-29T21:09:00.004-07:002021-03-29T21:09:25.600-07:00Dinosaurs: <p> </p><div class="postrow has_after_content"><div class="content">
<div id="post_message_2339535">
<blockquote class="postcontent restore ">
What goes between<br />
is trapped by pockets <br />
of air, themselves trapped by flakes of snow<br />
that alter under pressure, become ice <br />
a captured story that contains<br />
that day’s actions, a hand<br />
light upon soft skin<br />
around the nape of neck, bare <br />
foot taps another foot’s toes and nails <br />
in time with a current song, bodies push<br />
and weave into spaces that yield <br />
and return, words too<br />
become ensnared, buried <br />
in time, squeezed into tales <br />
barely remembered, then comes <br />
a time in light, an action triggers <br />
the memory, sunshine releases air <br />
after a century <br />
of being compressed, thirty <br />
or more years ago now, laughter, hair <br />
blown by a breeze from a time <br />
before climate <br />
became the talking point<br />
a time<br />
before children walked the earth.
</blockquote>
</div>
</div>
</div>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-70350709166838295322021-03-29T21:07:00.008-07:002021-03-29T21:07:59.034-07:00sandstone and shadows:<p> </p><div class="postrow has_after_content">
<div class="content">
<div id="post_message_2339628">
<blockquote class="postcontent restore ">
Time erected as if it could<br />
be built forever –<br />
know it as a lie, the finger<br />
etched into the stone a sideshow<br />
nothing will last forever.<br />
<br />
Written words sold, sacred contract<br />
as each device lasted<br />
longer than the precursor – a diaspora<br />
of peoples cross the blocks <br />
and girders of progress.<br />
<br />
When then did it get turned <br />
on its head – built for mayflies instead?<br />
What finger, what wall,<br />
a new temple made from sand<br />
that tumbled faster than years could build?<br />
<br />
Three hours not three decades<br />
a mire of broken goods loll –<br />
plastic islands in the ocean, oil products<br />
for hermit crabs and newly formed rocks<br />
build blocks of decay.<br />
<br />
Children focus elsewhere<br />
as hands, turned wrinkled, <br />
how strong they grip the bed – the aged <br />
know how to hold – the young<br />
look elsewhere.<br />
<br />
Is it then<br />
the construction of a desert, gods <br />
destined to turn away, the hand withdrawn<br />
a finger no longer exists to write<br />
prophesy upon the wall?
</blockquote>
</div>
</div>
</div>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-84150479758198169802021-03-29T21:07:00.003-07:002021-03-29T21:07:12.124-07:00Asking why makes us human: <p> </p><div class="postrow has_after_content"><div class="content">
<div id="post_message_2340594">
<blockquote class="postcontent restore ">
Head not above benchtop<br />
eyes peer up, the struggle to see<br />
in the giant’s lair, a finger<br />
points to the jar, the lid so secure<br />
small hands cannot unwind.<br />
<br />
No other creature, <br />
when denied<br />
will ask why?<br />
<br />
Stand at the window, watch<br />
the rain that falls upon the garden, gate<br />
and street, imagine footsteps<br />
that head through the gate <br />
and up the street to the corner.<br />
<br />
No other creature<br />
when abandoned<br />
will ask why?<br />
<br />
Bald head, toothless mouth<br />
the body rejects movement<br />
calcifying with the effect<br />
of too many years in oxygen, weary<br />
eyes ponder the darkness ahead.<br />
<br />
No other creature<br />
when faced with the end<br />
will ask why?
</blockquote>
</div>
</div>
</div>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-61898336055250944082021-03-29T21:06:00.004-07:002021-03-29T21:06:23.760-07:00Saying hello to magpies: <p> </p><div class="postrow has_after_content">
<div class="content">
<div id="post_message_2340597">
<blockquote class="postcontent restore ">
She always does,<br />
when they hop along the street<br />
neighbours popping in for a tea and chat<br />
she listens to them<br />
with a curious wrinkled brow<br />
lips teased by front teeth.<br />
<br />
Her skill at listening<br />
heeding the eyes and voice<br />
of magpies and spirits<br />
her time-free patience <br />
makes children<br />
of us all.<br />
<br />
When she sees a magpie<br />
it’s my father’s spirit<br />
coming to say hello<br />
to check all is well<br />
to tell a joke as only a magpie<br />
in that warble can tell.<br />
<br />
She loved my father,<br />
not for his smile<br />
or the gifts always bestowed<br />
but because in her world of chaos<br />
and horrid voices without relent<br />
he bequeathed calm.<br />
<br />
The world is a better place<br />
for magpies, she says, their song<br />
unique among birds, captures <br />
sunrise and calls down the night<br />
conferring peace in a world<br />
too ready to be tumultuous.
</blockquote>
</div>
</div>
</div>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-9030909485304956282021-03-29T21:05:00.001-07:002021-03-29T21:05:09.614-07:00fruit picking: <p> </p><div class="postrow has_after_content"><h2 class="title icon"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Fathom this, floating oranges, peeled<br />
with fingers and teeth, drift <br />
between words shared<br />
on that backstep, looking out <br />
at the decrepit sheds<br />
full of old toys so lost they spoke <br />
amongst themselves<br />
and to you, that was the shock<br />
even back then, so many things spoke to you<br />
as your father did not, the beer spoke to him<br />
and kept him silent unless rage took hold<br />
then we’d sit on the back step <br />
and share another orange –<br />
<br />
even now, old and gray, when I <br />
choose an orange<br />
out of the fruit bowl, my legs automatically<br />
wander me outside<br />
sit me down on the back step, as I pluck <br />
the first hole with two front teeth <br />
as you always did back then<br />
I recall again the sound<br />
of china teacups as they hit <br />
the shocked walls in a song<br />
accepted even as skin and bones <br />
reverberated like cheap plaster.
</span></span></h2></div>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-27696962060613457782021-03-11T03:20:00.003-08:002021-03-11T03:20:25.394-08:00Shame is a tree:<p>Shame is a thirsty tree<br />
roots within ribs<br />
winds branches across bones<br />
places leaves between discs<br />
feeds on words<br />
until silence remains<br />
turns hands into fists<br />
furrows flesh, turns a face <br />
into a mountain<br />
with canyons for the secret tears.<br />
<br />
Shame grows in the dark<br />
poisonous when shared<br />
murderous when left alone<br />
I have scissors bought at a flea market<br />
snip snip in the late afternoons<br />
treat the tree as a bonsai<br />
and shape it with will, it is smaller now<br />
grows in places set aside<br />
so the rest of me is free <br />
to decide who I should be. <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-61485018013176224742021-03-08T02:42:00.005-08:002021-03-08T02:42:37.686-08:00duck placed under a bucket<p>Darkness, the slice of a knife<br />
bewildered mind, distant honks<br />
feel the ground underfoot <br />
and metallic dink dink of bill<br />
against nonperishable tin<br />
ponder flight as wings ache<br />
disuse is the hardest excuse<br />
exudes a laziness, no ears<br />
care for stories of imprisonment.<br />
<br />
My hard-earned is on certain facts –<br />
two bets;<br />
duck will settle, regain the sense <br />
of being in the egg, wait<br />
until the bucket is lifted<br />
then with a honk and waddle<br />
will hurry off to join the others<br />
and that it is female<br />
in carrying life they must fight<br />
to avoid the buckets placed to curtail.<br />
<br />
Absence creates more buckets<br />
than there are ducks in the universe.
</p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-33364632516147017962021-03-08T02:38:00.004-08:002021-03-08T02:38:46.059-08:00a life metaphor<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">the cemetery and all the stone</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">and marble crucifixes</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">the angels with eyes</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">lifted up to the heavens</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">the slabs of marble and granite</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">holding bones in eternal hugs</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">the names and dates and dried up petals</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">the empty vases and incense holders</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">the trees for shade</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">the ashes in rows</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">the roses for tears and never bestowed kisses</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">resides in perpetuity</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">inside our flesh and bones, in the skulls
and marrow</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">of all of us but mostly</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">in the women who birth us.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-72830025955318189382021-03-06T14:50:00.001-08:002021-03-06T14:50:05.062-08:00Beneath Paris:
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">In the dark city of reflection walls are
made </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">from skulls and other random bones,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">create spaces of separateness in the limestone</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">avenues to wander by the light of carbide</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">whisper romantic songs into the starless ceiling</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">hold hands with ghosts who roam the streets</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">as they try to remember the address
upstairs. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It is there voices meet, pretend to be
echoes</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">recount old stories of sunlight and
birdsong</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">with hearts that long to return, seeds that
need </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">warmth for life to burst upon them again, hands</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">ready to push through rock and soil, two
arms </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">to spread into the joyous stance of
ballerinas.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-52703432406828341612021-03-03T03:34:00.003-08:002021-03-03T03:34:46.454-08:00Poets fish the Night’s Oceans:<p>
</p><br /><p class="MsoNormal">It is a difficult hunt in waters</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">filled with the eternally unseen</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">afterimages of things imagined</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">sensory echoes of experiences</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">bittersweet scent of dreams.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The water is deep</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">heavily salted with tears </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">forces anglers time </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and time again back to the surface.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The plunge brings a proximity to death</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">the other side of life’s coin.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">it risks forgetfulness and idle hours</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">staring into the currents words leave behind.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">old friends float</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">other anglers greet</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">some hold up catches that can fade </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">or appear larger in the light.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">These fish cannot sate</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">drive the fishers to try again and again</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">an addiction</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">to hunt the ripples, the after-taste, the hope.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The quest for what cannot be complete</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">for what cannot ever be brought </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">truly to the surface whole</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">but in parts </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">scales that reflect sunlight</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and hold a darkness within.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So cold now</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and so warm fishing all these years</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">they stretch out behind</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">like the drying bones of leviathans </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">perpetually now at rest</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">on the edge of night’s tilted shores.</p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-31199038163120964232021-03-01T03:07:00.005-08:002021-03-01T03:08:56.573-08:00The Carter:<p>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Who is this man? Pulls the wagon</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">wooden wheels, the cart chocked </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">with femurs and skulls, the remains </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">removed from the clogged cemeteries </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">to a new place of rest; even the dead crowd</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">their silence louder than car horns,</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">strident as voices can only desire to be.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Who is this man? Dressed in white</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">so that he glows in the subterranean city</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">working through the days beneath the workers</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">working through their days; he has no sun</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">until he returns upstairs to sleep,</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">instead the gentle hum of carbide, the sound </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">of wooden wheels across limestone.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Who is this man? Leads the cart of the dead</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">deeper into the labyrinth as if carrying</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">the rejected who had no coins for Kharon</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and must travel by road instead; he wears a hat</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and white smock as if an artist, searches </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">for the site of his next great masterpiece</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">the ink the years, the bristles the finality of death.</p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-61914112551393644182021-02-27T21:25:00.002-08:002021-02-27T21:25:07.322-08:00for my children because I too often forget:<p>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In this fix, stuck fast</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">between the opening my feet dangle into</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and the small space my head has found</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">my chest and back pressed, breath difficult –</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I may never make sound again and here I wanted to </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">connect, say some things, explain but stuck fast, </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">the moment a rock that gives no ground, so many words, </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">cavern moths flutter into the shadows and are gone.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The pressure builds, the thought</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>is this the last time we’ll ever talk</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and I cannot find the sound, so pressed are my ribs</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">so difficult to expand the lungs.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">then the rope, the chisel,</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">the hammer, a chance; I forget words,</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">let thoughts as bats hang and sleep in the dark</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and use my ears to find the path, I listen.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That act we so often forget</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">as we explore</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">the ears, the canals, the passage</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">into the underneath.</p>
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mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-42271236565283578252021-02-27T20:11:00.003-08:002021-02-28T13:09:49.226-08:00The boy as an older man to his mother:<p><br />Into this then, this space<br />of sacred rocks placed in balance,<br />the sunlight to screen thoughts.<br /><br />I remember when we were young<br />you held my hand, mother, as I<br />now hold yours, your eyes then, clear<br />looking forward to a time of me<br />never to become a reality,<br /><br />those rocks that hover<br />huddle against wind and word<br />create shelter in thought and deed.<br /><br />This man I am, distant now<br />from that time of holding hands,<br />my children adults now<br />who plan that hand-holding in their futures<br />and whatever they will see<br />standing there with their’s<br />will match<br />and will not<br /><br />the vision you had<br />and that now sometimes I glimpse echoes of<br />as you sit, frail, barely present<br />in this second between dreams.<br /> </p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-66691755132975438132021-02-24T02:57:00.005-08:002021-02-24T02:57:52.167-08:00Puhpowee:<p>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">They make
their own wind to send children</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">out into
the world</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">thrive in
the electrical storms</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">have their
own force that pushes them</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">to emerge
ready to be seen every morning</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">some can
bend the mind</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">form miniature
circles and amphitheaters</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">provide
shelter and shade</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and all the
while we think of apples falling</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">an atom’s
dance</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and a cat
that’s neither here nor there</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">while failing
to see powers that create</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">as they feed
on radioactive waste</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and dream
of one single forest again.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-17985494952708932342021-02-23T19:46:00.000-08:002021-02-23T19:46:37.632-08:00rock formations:<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Underworld
shadows, the movement of a hand</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">it touched
my brow, the fever</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">smells of
ochre and the litany</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">we will be
here forever sung</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">as rain and
wind steal particles of faith</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">carry them
to the water’s edge,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">set them
adrift a million tiny babes</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">seeking the
lagoon of some Pharaoh’s daughter.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When I was
young in solemn oath</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I did swear
the bible and all the words</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and fear to
be truth-telling, sister, sister</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">you smiled
and knew that lagoon would call to me</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">as soon as
the necessary year’s accumulated</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">here now I float,
touch my hand</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and imprint
a thousand caverns</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">sing to ensorcell
any daughter’s haven.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Inside, in
the shadows and rivulets that run</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">with all
the actions done</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">handprints
glow, red patterns discerned</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">by closing
eyelids exposed to bright hope</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">all the
while the caves chew the years</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">hollow the
space to receive the bones</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">the heart a
geologist watching solid steps</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">become the
mists of a new age.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-25341537518517345872021-02-23T13:07:00.004-08:002021-02-23T13:07:37.723-08:00Petiole:<p>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">fading leaf
grips with knowledge</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">the
worst kind of hanging on</span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">can see the
future unfold</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">in deep
green dreams</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">the wind
whispers</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">you’ll come
back, you’ll come back</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">it is
always about the return</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">the earth
thinks it ends</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">when the
leaf touches down</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">but at
night</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">as the
saucepan catches all stories</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">stars hold
the deeper understanding</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">eventually
darkness will win</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-39076231044832114052021-02-22T02:21:00.004-08:002021-02-23T13:06:54.581-08:00Inosculation:<p>
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">First, let us acknowledge </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">the depth to
our lichen and fungi</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">entwining
thoughts that span years – did you </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">know dear a
lichen can create soil from rock?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">appropriate
for my heart that met yours</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">made whole
at last, I think we forget </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">across the
milky way of years</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">that your
flesh and mine cannot know</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">where one
begins and the other ends</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Second, as I
stand here before your absence</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">in the
ground (<i>pay heed children,</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>two die when one goes</span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">family and
friends behind pale </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">shocked as
my right hand holds the soil </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">any moment
the freefall into your new home</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I know this
is as much about my passing</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">as yours
even though I am the one breathing.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Third, if I
can find the courage</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">in that bed
we bought thirty years ago</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I will roll
into the emptiness and hope</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">in
filaments none of us truly understand</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">to touch
and heal us both</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">spend
nights alone with dreams</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">of the days
we spent sharing sunlight synthesizing </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">events into
food, eating in out of body experiences.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Fourth,
with one heart now, in blood </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">that flows
and that does not,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">doing
double the work two shall speak </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">with a
single voice and through the spread </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">into
children and their children’s children </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">see the forest,
a single contour of difference</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">that supports
so many who have never met</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and yet connect
through the underworld </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">structures only
mutual time can erect.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-604725622386859872021-02-21T03:03:00.000-08:002021-02-21T03:03:07.956-08:00Fossil traces:<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the salt wedged between progress</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">and an echo of a dream giant machines</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">rest, stilled in the end by a lack</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">bigger than greed. Where mountains</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">once stood holes stare up at stars</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">imagine their peaks returned at last.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the oceans, in the sand the imprints</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">of packages discarded for the worth inside.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Across the flatlines of the globe</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">bones sing the dirges, future minds</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">struggle to put the bones into a semblance </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">of sense out of the mass of loss, beneath land</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">in caverns stacked cylinders hold a poison</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">a thousand, thousand years in the unmaking.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Shadows of cities rest now</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">in the reclaimed forests, steel girders</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">twist into new stories for fur and feather</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">hold eggs and young safely above.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Buried in time, deep in the ancestral mind</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">memories float unheard, untold, sacred.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Who will release the casket’s dirt now?</p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73182594763598557.post-69972742964449515182021-02-17T02:22:00.001-08:002021-02-17T02:22:07.159-08:00Blue Aura:<p><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In the
underneath</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">where the
only light is in a dream.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In the
drift of potash. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In the land
of what is and what has been taken.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In the age
of recollections</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I remember
the promises made –</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">they are
the flash of blue</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">showing
what has passed</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and cannot
be seen;</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">what once
had touched</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and where
it had been.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The flare
of colour</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">the only
signal of life</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">in the
decay of body and mind.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>Danny Faheyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10494326955462564667noreply@blogger.com0