Hounds of Hell

The Hounds of Hell Show Up

I'm riding the Bus Eireann
From the Cliffs of Moher
To the city of tribes,
And it's two PM
And I'm hungry
And I'm thinking of
What I'll eat
When we stop at a quarter to four.

And then suddenly
We round the corner
And the chromatic shiver
Of the Burren
Comes into view:
Great majestic meringues
Of lilac rock
With lime grass sprinkles

And next to that:
Khaki-colored cattle
Chew cud in a pasture
Freely strewn with burren stone
Like pats of butter
On an apple crumble.

And I think:
Maybe the diet wasn't
Such a great idea.

My craving for sugar
Tailed me to this green land
Along with my penchant for melancholy
Self-doubt, shyness,
And odd sense of humor;

Faithful hounds
With unerring noses