h o m e........
p a s t   i s s u e s....
s u b m i s s i o n s....
l i n k s





for the sake of the tune let’s rewrite the song

as Yeats says what have you? what’ll you have

and what’s it to you anyway? all this said in tones

not above a whisper and she replies I’ll have the same


another round again we’ll have the tune

oh after the fashion of the thing

but rewritten with the W.B. and thus

we have to ask this splendorous person what is it?

nothing like a singsong to pass the evening

in the blackest nights you ever saw above you

so there are no stars no time it might be Rome

when there were emperors and she a frescoed lady

seated in a cross-legged chair she turns to stare at you

in her white shift beneath a stone vase full of vegetation



with a fine summer’s day

it is long and lanky

call it late spring then

it has such a smile

earlier still

it has its resources

it is kind to its mother

early fall we’ll say

a fine summer’s day




BIO: Christopher Mulrooney has written poems in West Wind Review, riverbabble, pacific REVIEW, Anterior Review, The Interpreter’s House, Black & BLUE, The Hour of Lead, and SAND Journal


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