black sun only shines out of a vacuum.
Cold narrowings and idols of blood and soil.
And all the more now, we can’t sing dumb!
A conversation so rich it knows it never arrives
Or forecloses; in a buzz and cross-ruff of polity
The restless subversive ragtime of what thrives.
Endless dialogues. The criss-cross of flourishings.
Again and over again our complex yes.
A raucous glory and the whole jazz of things.
The sudden riffs of surprise beyond our ken;
Out of control, a music’s brimming let-go.
We feast to keep our promise of never again.
Micheal O’Siadhail, “Never,” in The Gossamer Wall (Newcastle upon Tyne: Bloodaxe, 2002), p. 120. Reprinted by kind permission of Bloodaxe Books.