There is no message.
To understand
You must see the whole,
Which,
Although approachable,
Is impossible to consume,
And leaves only an everlasting
Purgatory
Of debt.
There is no message.
To understand.
Only footsteps
On rain-stained concrete,
And eyes that fail
To meet,
Intimate in suffering.
So we linger,
Instead,
In the incomplete.
To Linger Here in the Incomplete
A poet, part-time academic in narratological complexity, and financial journalist, Dublin born Oisín Breen’s widely reviewed debut collection, ‘Flowers, all sorts in blossom, figs, berries, and fruits, forgotten’ was released Mar. 2020.Breen has been published in a number of journals, including About Place, the Blue Nib, Books Ireland, the Seattle Star, Modern Literature, La Piccioletta Barca, the Bosphorus Review of Books, the Kleksograph, In Parentheses, the Madrigal, and Dreich magazine.