Michael McAloran

by Ian on January 25, 2012

Michael McAloran was Belfast born (1976). He has been writing for almost 10 years, and his most recent work has appeared in various anthologies & print and online zines in the U.S, U.K, India & Australia, including Carcinogenic Poetry, PMI, Calliope Nerve, The Delinquent, The Recusant, Sex & Murder Magazine, In Between Altered States, Horror, Sleaze & Trash, Negative Suck, Graffiti Kolkata, Pratishedhak, Prathamata, Danse Macabre, amphibi.us, The Plebian Rag, Full of Crow, Gloom Cupboard, Gutter Eloquence, Fashion For Collapse, Fragile Arts Quarterly, Clockwise Cat, Sein Und Werden, Milk Sugar, The Medulla Review, Counterexample Poetics, Heavy Bear, Mastodon Dentist, Nothing, No-one, Nowhere, etc.

His artwork has also appeared in various journals, both print & online. He has published a number of chapbooks, including ‘The Gathered Bones’, (Calliope Nerve Media), ‘Final Fragments’, (Calliope Nerve Media), & ‘The Death-Streaked Air’ (Virgogray Press), ‘Debris’, (Erbacce-Press), ‘The Rapacious Night‘, (Calliope Nerve Media) & ‘Unto Naught’, (Erbacce-Press). A full length collection of poems, ‘Attributes’, was published by ‘Desperanto’, (NY), in 2011…He has also self-published a number of chapbooks, two novellas, a play, and another full-length collection, ‘Of Dead Silences’…He has also spent time as Poetry Editor @ ‘Calliope Nerve’, an online American poetry zine…

Extracts from ‘Sequences’

XXI

…an open wound…emaciation in the depths of shadow…the blindness of ice…a shit-smeared mirror…the decibels of silence, without end…a child’s scream in the night…an orchard of spent bones and acrid silences…a funereal procession of pallbearers…none without end…

…so seeketh alone, dredging up the skull dust of vagrant hours in the redeem…night’s utter vacancy, inhaling the breath from the lungs…hours ruthlessly devoured unto their sinking…adrift in absences, colours erased…the eyes smeared out…a delirium of foreign lights…

(…impossible to move beyond, yet sliding, until shattered once/ thrice/ splice the…breach and lest there be done…spit it out, spit it out…impossible, no, not a trace of it…stitched of the motive, the exigent/ non-stretched…the eyes roll in the skull of all dreaming still(ness)…

…i could kill…from out of solace births the fragrant lash of the wind’s tears…i laugh alone in this shattered, mirrored corridor…i pick the scabs from my…said again, knuckled with frenzy, sickness, sickness…impossible only, as if to say of it…oblivion skulks about me like a whipped canine, i fling it another bone…)

XXII

…fruitless sky of dead casts, outward, outward, until their spell, i into skull unto this or else, scum of refuse breathing…

…drag of the old bones, the dead airs, the silent never to become, all ashen and ever bled, till circus, cast aside, the heavenly of, the scarring of…

…i breathe the sudden of…spill of dreaming in a kaleidoscope of shattered colours, igniting the sky…

…head coffin of ill-dreaming lest there be else, no no sense in that, cascade of a listless hour, hourglass filled with blood, with nothing, vapours of all that had become and has of which become known to else, fragrant, as a cadaver’s breath…

…knock aside or step, collapse if willed, sun or spit, light or out, a light bulb swaying in a vacant room but one, where death alone is none else, nothing but…

…in my delirium of fleshly ashes, i catascope of all that was intent, i sickened to the extracted teeth of the night…

…all sung, yes, but beyond, closed now, settled then, as if to go on might, not a fragment settled of it, as if to go on might, not a fragment settled of it, as if to go on might…(snuffed out)…

XXIII

…churn lock of the implode, chamber of sudden night…through the breath of some swarm, some skull, i in-breathe, scattered petals of blood unto the wasteland of all silently…

…sickened unto…lapse of…sonorous i fill the sky with the nothing of none else…rat shadows and the dead eye vacant, denuded hollow of all else…trace lest there be, until removed from, spun at a pitch/ nectar of the frozen sky…

…till reclaimed once more…time lacerates the intricacy of escaping breath…i knock, i knock upon liquid hours, where nebulous sanctuary falls away like so much shit…heart lung and of the staunched blood, the blight of it, the shadow of…

…i vibrate…

…in frenzied hours…

…as if to mock where nothing claims, but the ice of dissolution…

…(dredge without hilt the season’s murder)…

…i spit, i will not embrace it, i spit it out it clogs the tongue…whispers of dreams cascade into the void where of there now as if it were to follow inwardly, but of one till else…

…ah, rub the ash into the wound, seal shut the fissure eye, the seeing none, blind as the dead, tracing the braille of teeth in the skull, cease and be done with it…

XXIV

…in this skinning pit, of my laughter, dissipating beneath the bone dredge of sky, layer upon layer of ice through which to drown, asking of the fleshed purpose, till called on, once again…

…night beyond pitch, of some incomparable wastage, the broken skin of some gleaming possibility, through which some flourish of gilded rain, sung, without longing…

(…casket breath…embroiled meat…hyenic callings echo throughout the night…desert dreams, shatter, shatter…)…

…regalia of orchid semblances, of confetti, carried like unsown seed by the wind into some foreign distance…the moonlight shears the pulse, drunken i dream of the open wound of the sky’s blind eye…

…flat-line of discarded births, in the reek of my anguish…

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I expire, like an excavated carcass…

XXV

…bound black, in a sky pelt of mockery’s teeth, shimmering, in the mist of bloodless appeal…

…shroud of veined ice, of web, of scattered silences, drifting lest, therefore or of the none…

…breathen keys turn in the vacant flesh, the sear of night and the cards burned in a candle’s flare…

…soil of broken locks, whittled bone, none of else…

…seeding the sun with vacant arrows of stricken sinew, ever to expire…

(…i/ where the…spoken as if…trace of…)

…the hours pass through me, they claim nothing but the meat of it, the flesh… the endless night is my altar, none else but to expire of breath denounced or spent/ absurd as the wind’s claim, forever, of the else or none…

…the words they fade away, death’s tomes, rustle in the breeze, scattering tumble-weed throughout abandoned graveyards…

XXVII

…the sky opens up in welts of tears, naked now, denuded the pulse engraves its’ winds into the silence…

…(light alone has never of the once sufficed)…

…the clear night shrouds the skeletal laughter, embroils the turning of the screw in the thumbscrew air…

…i laugh the hyenic laughter of there ever else, echoing out into some sense of absent breathing, subtle then to fall upon, subtle then to free myself, of the absolve…

…blank sun…

…absent once…

…none else…

…none else but of the desolate…

…as if there could…

…i am the breaking of the ocean into a sudden snap of vault…

…only the murmurs disrupt the silence but for an instant, but no, they never have, they never will…i cannot retrace my steps…

XXVIII

…desertion…

…extractions of…

…a singular light bulb swinging like a noose, shards of white light dissecting an empty room…

…the echoes swirl like vapours, fossils of speech rejected for the price of death alone, beacon to taste in thin cries, nothing more, traces spat out in disgust…

…cold reams of silence, of the none else, of the…

…there is no one there, no presence, merely the ash of something that should never have been…

…walls peeled like skin from a carcass, sun unto next or the next of folly…

…i know of such rooms, i have dwelt there, i was the emaciated shadow…

…memory garrottes…

…vacancy champions…

…absence filled the sky, like no other absolution…i ate of the sun, I can still taste the sharp sting of shit in my mouth…my mortuary tears were of little use, there was nowhere else that i could have been, nothing was all, none else…

…in my dreaming, i died vicariously…

…i died…

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