In-ter-net & I-rish

Photograph of me and one of my childhood kitties, Puma, when I was a teenager.


The Internet either induces or wipes out
all the negative energy of a 417Hz banshee


banshee, an Irish spirit I first encountered
in Dungeons & Dragons, the first time I realized

When my family said, “You are Irish,”
this meant something with depth,

(Whereas I previously thought “Irish” meant
someone has silverware,)

(Yet since I’m the bottom-barrel grandchild
forget the silverware; instead

I inherit a drinking spirit;
shower weeping;
belly laughs;)


The Internet is like a sledge
hammered into your Achilles’ heel

In that way that feels too good

Ever since the abuse
turned into self-loathing


But to discover Irish stories, spirits, histories
just as my androgynous cleric/mage

failed her save
and died—

To read more about Irish families
immigrating across seas

And to feel their love through my father,
grandfather, grandmother, great grandmother,

And to feel their love through my mother,
grandmother, ancestors that keep going,

And to feel
even when feeling is too much—


Sometimes, it takes me
a moment to reach into

my wailing blank face
to find where I have gone.

Why the colored numbers?
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A Vocabulary Journal & Poetry Collection?
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