Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2009


by Michael Donovan

Dying was just like walking
In the alley somebody came and kept on
But that whore she rode the alley as she does the earth

Leaving in her way everything Bavarian
Fullish the shapes of wholly quantity in vulgar throws
She blissful surely made another's brow here to fold

With untaught finales of the pricey acrobatic
Behind the road or in these, town's darkened windows
By her coy variations on eternal technique,

Leaving the moon her concrete and milky sweet husband
And world his bristling genitor heaving at a distance
Her bare feet flitter, trouncing hell’s cavern still deeper

Landed and bounced far the dark universal expanses
Kicking empty space of his hilarious handedness
Trailing as she came a number of backwards seas

To the last great wedding bed, in adfecto maritale
Took her man by his Christian name
O! Mortale

O! Mortale, was your eyes that they got wrapped up
Was your build that she was heaped up edges of you
To be wayward one must know the way O, Mortale,

Was some devil heard you say you knew
Burning the ears of an uncanny dappled reality
Unannounced or welcomed as a grip in the bolt

Rub that crumb twixt your fingers in the buzz horde high
It's litergic hearts come from litergic speak O, Sacrilic
On kindling the arms of a running magic

And at horde does beg comrades in turn to shine off the melody
"Amor meus! Miserere non! Miserere non, Amor!"
 Amor meus! Miserere non! Miserere non, Amor!

Added: 13.03.2009