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Patrick Ryan Dunn Sullivan  (email)


About the Poet:

Patrick Ryan Dunn Sullivan is a mathematician, linguist, and poet living indefinitely on the Korean peninsula. Published works have appeared in Silent Actor, Sein und Werden (UK), Poetry Super Highway, Ascent Aspirations, Isles of Myst (Thailand) and Deep Cleveland.




Big moon,
Haloed and egg-shaped,
Behind Around Big
Spider on a tiny web;
Just finished spinning
The twitching grasshopper;
The yellow stripes on his back,
Like egg yolk moon
Beams in a Paradise garden.
I watch from the lavender milk bath
My friend has drawn
Under a persimmon tree;
She has sprinkled the cloudy water
With fresh rosemary branches,
The blurry moon is doubly blemished;
By submerged eyes.
The echoes of laughter only barely audible,
I hum a simple meditation to the moon,
And let the smells take me.





Pyramids of Snow, from the wind drifts, you know;
Dunes of latticed, frozen water, from the undertow.
These temples to the ice age, go as fast as come;
And leave tomorrow full of grass, that the reapers had to sew.
The wind becomes a warmer gust,
The sun spins golden brown;
The birds fly back to take their nests,
In the trees throughout the town;
With the comets’ pattern overhead,
Our beards grow longer every moon;
With the summer solstice on its way,
The Sirens hum their melting tune.
Pyramids of Sand, from the summers arid, desert land;
Dunes of diamond, onyx glass, so golden brown & tanned.
These temples to the breath of Ra, weave and wander still;
And tumble through the hourglass, that Chaos keeps in hand.


Un début au bout (see translation below)
Ô ma belle,
Frêle comme un souffle;
Fort comme granit nacreux,
Qui me parle en langue par signes.
Bête télépathique et passionnée,
Un porc-épic à peaux soyeux;
De cœur copieux qui fait des méandres,
Comme lave améthyste séduisant.
Alliage du berceuse et sucette,
Lame de rasoir;
Aussi fin qu’une éternité,
Dormant aussi silencieuse qu’un troupeau.
Balayée au vent,
Fluorescente et éclairât,
Je la trouve à la réflexion de la neige.
Frêle comme un souffle,
Fort comme granit nacreux;
Chauffée au rouge brûlante,
Il faut l’aimer.
La vie ne m’a jamais demandée.
Le magnétisme d’amour m’a contraindu,
Sans la moindre difficulté.
Comme Un Poème au page;
    Un souffle aux ouragans;
      Un début au bout.


A Beginning To An End. (translation by author of Un début au bout)


Oh my Beauty,
Fragile as a breath; 
Strong as pearled granite,
Who speaks to me in language by signs.
Telepathic and impassioned animal,
a porcupine with silky skins;
Of copious meandering heart,
Alluring amethyst lava.
Alloy of the lullaby and lollipop,
Razor blade;
As fine as an eternity, 
Dormant as a charging herd.
Swept with the wind,
Fluorescent and Flashing,
I find you with the reflection of snow.
Frail as a breath,
Strong as pearled granite;
Heated by molten reds,
You must be loved.
Life never asked me.
Forced by the magnets of love ,
Without the least bit resistance.
Like a Poem to the page;
   A breath to the hurricanes;
      A beginning to an end.


Blessing II.
May the rains wash seaward your sorrow tears,
Nourishing crops to feed you in every rivulet;
May a breath of kindness quell passive tender fears,
That music alone washeth over you in slumber.
One Day

Naked and certainly unashamed,
Concentrically circular wavelets
Emanate outward from her every motion;
Onlooking senses, Usually 5 in number,
Liquefy into a singular feeling of awe;
Occupying but a moment,
Stretched to infinity,
And draped around the rim of time;
Which begins to boil, swell, and evaporate.
That one sense is then-
Into a still greater sensibility;
Singular in nature,
As the echoless heartbeat;
Across the glassy lake.
There are songs for this, and sonnets more;
But none so correct as her, Actually in the wind;
Craving affection, Hoarding beauty;
Kneeing in a meadow, and crying;
She is not holy, nor unholy;
Sacred, nor unvigiled;
She is wholly and completely occupied,
By forces that do not understand her.
Avatar of every Mind's
Child-like, Ineffable fervor;
Beacon for the transmigration of souls,
Epicenter and Periphery;
Flame and Frost,
Icicle, and the Dawn light through it.
Ophelia, Floating on her hair;
Juliet's blue lips, Moistened
By the candlelit tears of her star-crossed lover;
Annabelle Lee, With Poe crouching
By her tomb by the side of the sea.
The locks of hair that dried the tear-washed feet
Of Mary Magdalene's beloved.
The rivers that cleanse all lands;
And the Great, hurling Oceans,
That receive and embrace them;
The memory of all that lent meaning to the abyss,
The memory of all men and the histories of their Love,
The imperishable memory of a perishable heart,
Lent pulse for a flashing moment,
By a Mind that remembered to conjure it.