Leanne O’Sullivan is a young poet who hails from Cork. Her Collection entitled “Waiting for my Clothes”, was published by Bloodaxe Books in 2004. Her full Works come across as brutally honest, and poignant, and a personal journey of the physical is mapped in detail. I hope that these snippets below portray the richness of her way with words.
The sun rises with complete knowledge
of the day, folding the darkness into the gorge
with the aim of an eye. (Waking)I stand before the water: what satisfaction
it has in ebbing and flowing (Mourning)The ocean had been sailed,
the horizon tender for my outstretched limbs,
my tapered legs moving into deepness (Sliocha Na Ron)I feel the ocean itself is flesh,
and the delicate psalm of the heart is beating somewhere in the core (Rite of Passage)During the long, idle nights of summer rain,
I sit at my desk conceiving poems,
spilling them like birth milk onto the page. (The Fruit)The sun rolls back, slanting to night,
Patchwork Poem by Aine, on the works of Leanne O'Sullivan
and we speak in strange tongues, our best syllables silent,
echoing like creviced caverns (If these walls could talk)