James Mullaney Biography

Who weeps for Jesus at the clutch of doom?
His mother, whose face most mirrors his face.
A sword has pierced her soul, so full of grace.
The wondrous youth who ambled in the coomb
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Horsechestnut trees in my dreams, it seems;
Horsechestnut trees in my dreams.
Lizzie looks sexy in blue denim jeans -
Sexy as pie in those jeans, it seems;
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When Mary swayed beneath that tree, she owned
the purest spirit mauled by purest spite
that wherefrom ever mournful music moaned;
and the gift - or the curse - of omnisight.
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Deep inside a slumber I was woken
by Mary. It was my first rest in days.
I wrote down her words, those she had spoken.
Then I communicated, welling praise.
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Woeful nights, the pure gold of Mary's faith
blazoned the brighter for the stillborn dread
that roiled inside like a nether wraith.
ON THE THIRD DAY HE AROSE FROM THE DEAD.
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