I rest on a dandelion carpet.
I listen in the silhouette night to my own rooted mind.
My heartbeat crushes old leaves in the mulch.
And the once barren dawn bursts into flowers.
And I know now that most of us haunt the lives of our children,
Content to dwindle in cages of plasterboard and clay,
Idle, alone, and drifting.
Yet I know truth is the flaying of love on an open flower.
And I sleep on a dandelion carpet to watch the lilies bloom.
And I throw stones with the Captain, howling at the moon.
Oisín Breen is a 36 year-old poet, part-time academic in narratological complexity, and financial journalist. Dublin born Breen’s debut collection, “Flowers, all sorts in blossom, figs, berries, and fruits, forgotten” was released Mar. 2020 by Edinburgh’s Hybrid Press. Primarily a proponent of long-form style-orientated poetry infused with the philosophical, Breen has been published in a number of journals, including the Blue Nib, Books Ireland, the Seattle Star, Modern Literature, the New English Review, La Piccioletta Barca, the Bosphorus Review of Books, Disquiet, Universe, Mono, and Dreich magazine.