The Chasing Iamb

From the best session in Jaipur, the best reflection of my life as it is now, gripped in adolescent self-pity

Too Much

I’m sick
Too many joints in my music box
Too much black beer in my golden tap
Too many pennies in my pockets
Too many pockets in my broke-down-pants
My fire is on fire and I’m sick

I’m sick
Too much sunshine in my weird wood
Too many gods in my chalice
Too much peace in my begging cup
Too many flies on my piece

Too many daisies in my dreadlocks
Too many fiddlers in my cupboard
Too many people’s come-on-in my kitchen
Too much ice in my dour dram
My fire is on fire and I’m sick

I’m sick
Too much Powers in my coffee cup
Too much water in my holy well
Too much hay in my high meadow
Too much rain in my winter

Too many whores on my street
Too many dark nights in the middle of my month
Too much ink in my pen
Too many blues in my black skies

Too much worry in my bare bed
Too many mice at my cheese
Too many pills under my pillow
Too much of a muchness is too much for me
My fire is on fire and I’m sick

I’m sick
Too many colours in my black rainbow
Too many hippies at my party
Too many bullets in my trunks
Too many poems in my toilet bowl
Too much learning and too much heartache
Too many lies in my love letters

Too many Buddhas under my fig tree
Too much Krishna at my table
Too much of a muchness is too much for me
My fire is on fire and I’m sick.

I’m sick people, say sick.

Gearóid Mac Lochlainn, translated into English by Mac Lochlainn and into Bengali by Sampurna Chattarji.