#OisínBreen

ZiN Daily

Mar 25, 2022

Oisín Breen: The Darkness We Don’t Know

Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/ZlJ70xq0pO8) 16.1.2022. The River and its Reeds We stook the burden of ourselves By hand, even though we are blind, And the land, black stone, And the air hard, Heavy with thirst. Yet there exists a vapour, A bassline, trembling, As thick weaves of smoke flower On the horizon, here, Where the darkness we don’t know Is somehow nearer, Where there is always more to do, And where the gummy top notes Of our emotions bend, O

Oisín Breen: Temerous Beauty in Lost Hearts/Before the Mechanical

ZiN Daily

Mar 18, 2022

Oisín Breen: Temerous Beauty in Lost Hearts/Before the Mechanical

Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/EgAduzpSvdE) 16.1.2022. This is Merely the Beginning Grim cadavers, stretched on a pavement slab, form the wattle and daub, Of the most lost of us, we rococo producers of an ever bitter glee. And, symbolizing fury, we wear their raiments of muck, Frayed, remade creations, And our costume: the fruit once full. Yet a temerous beauty remains in wild flowers, in lost hearts, and in the soft dreams of those

Oisín Breen: Running on Fumes/How to Repent

ZiN Daily

Mar 11, 2022

Oisín Breen: Running on Fumes/How to Repent

Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/KTYSVnv6lUw) 16.1.2022. Clay Feet His feet, clay, Are matron To shanked And runny Dreams, And like the egg, That laid the golden goose, There’s a false melody on his lips, A repeating pattern Of growth and decay, It’s a renaissance of split hairs, Caterwauling the vacuum’s steady verse, Ad infinitum, Valuable, because it is inscrutable, White noise, jacked to jazz. And he is empty, Running on fumes, The grass, Crushed b

ZiN Daily

Mar 4, 2022

Oisín Breen: Continuance.

Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/XOQJa4OC8P0) 16.1.2022. Observing Firelight When you watch a candle, Its balletic fire A torrent Of seemingly unending heat, A sharp fixed point Of gulped air, And silence Metes a breathless rhapsody Of death, And there are instants Of stillness, When the flame flickers Out, then continues, Backed by equal moments Of surging light, Where blue flickers – in milliseconds – Cohere, Then vanish, Tracelessly, A soliloquy Of

ZiND

Sep 3, 2021

Oisín Breen: Fused

Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/oXRB-MUjT_w) 25.7.2021. The Ferryman The ferryman stands at the apex of function and form, A bricolage of human hungers and physical needs, And from his floating panopticon, He watches trees spend years reaching to touch the water, As his oar slides variously through spring and autumn leaves, Through the dark old water where I last saw your face. And, as his wooden raft nods in the current, he laughs, and his laugh is a

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The image of Quasimodo is by French artist Louis Steinheil, which appeared in the 1844 edition of Victor Hugo's "Notre-Dame de Paris" published by Perrotin of Paris.

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