into you like a train

another irish poem.

Like Heaney I am digging.

in Ireland, either a potato farmer or solider, with a spade or gun respectively
but i have a pen,

And I am digging.

I am digging a hole in the ground, turning the soil, uprooting roots that go down for miles. roots in the ground, in the earth that pulse with the life of the tree above.

I am digging, delving. greedily. deep.

Holes dug out with cravesome appetite. my territory marked in the soil,
where worms burrow.
where worms writhe.
worms in the dirty earth.

seeds sown my own
put in ground, to swell, grow
excavate my soul
whereby i am hollowed out,
buried here on ancient dune
dusty regions of of rock and ruin.