Phillip Morrison
False teeth cloud the sky.
The better to eat you with,
the grey dusk growls.
Drown your shamrock
in gin or whiskey.
If you have a girl,
then have her kiss me.
Ring around the caps;
never stop the circle.
Black eye dawn,
swollen, purple.
A piece of coal,
a cackle.
If your love’s too skinny,
a luck penny.
Swear by some soda bread
to keep those alive
from turning dead.
Enter and exit
the same doorway.
Throw a boot
after the girl from Galway.
Plant rosemary, my love,
and pray.
If you see magpies,
may they be plenty.
Sláinte!
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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