Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/twoEJNpgdbI) 20.11.2022.
Neon
Neon is
A blurred vision
Of prayer,
Neon is the seed
Of burning till you drop,
Exhausted, uninhibited
In madness.
Neon is the clouds,
Rhythmically chanting
The names of the dead.
It is the deflection of thought,
And, in action, a one way trip
Through needlepoint.
And action is the arm of Neon,
And needlepoint the chorus,
The last resting place
Of love.
About the Author: Irish poet, part-time academic, and journalist, Oisín Breen, a Best of the Net Nominee, is published in 103 journals in 20 countries, including in About Place, Door is a Jar, North Dakota Quarterly, Books Ireland, The Tahoma Literary Review, New Critique, and ZiN Daily. Breen’s second collection, Lilies on the Deathbed of Étaín has just been released by Beir Bua Press and is already garnering significant praise. It follows his well received debut, 'Flowers, All Sorts, in Blossom...' (Dreich, 2020).
