Up before the birds and sun. Before light soft promises. Shadowed movements - birds, foxes, trees. My head the same but in its usual spot. The sky softly forgotten. The sun and its being. I write notes by phone light.
Becoming a mustard farmer this autumn morning. I gas myself and then save myself and give my self a medal for surviving. I pin that big shiny bastard right into my heart. I give myself a brass band ceremony.
one by one
separated by an invisible line
the pine plantation
aztec nightmare a beast looks back at itself
Michael O’Brien lives in Glasgow, Scotland. He is the author of As Adam (UP Literature), Big Nothing (Bones), and The Anabasis of Man (Yavanika Press). You can follow him on twitter @michaelobrien22