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The Boy with the Arab Strap

Sleep the clock around kicks in the joy. A cup of coffee. re-reading Palmer's At Passages. He is so amazing.

Going to hear Craig Arnold read at 2pm today. Haven't read any of his poems before. He's one of those Yale winners.

Daddy long legs. Useless jaws. Sometimes I wonder when the poor buggers jaws will start working (via evolution). I don't want to be the first one to get the bite though.

Ate meat (red) for the first time in a while at the bar last night. I've been worrying the swiss cheese brain via mad cow for a while. But it could take 6 years (or 10 or 15 everyone has different info) for it to manifest.

I love Morning Star Farms though. The bacon isn't so good. But the sausage and all the burgers. Yum.

Working on an opening poem for a second manuscript. making it a tad long. Palmer and Grossman are having a way with me.


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I think this is from The Nortre Dame review, but I found it via goofle (I mean google).

Another Ireland: Part Two
Maurice Scully, The Basic Colours. Durham, UK: Pig Press, 1994.
Geoffrey Squires, Landscapes and Silences. Dublin: New Writers' Press, 1996.
Catherine Walsh, Idir Eatortha and Making Tents. London: Invisible Books, 1996.

By Robert Archambeau

I began the first half of this article (Notre Dame Review #4) by mentioning some of the limits to the legendary hospitality Ireland has shown to its poets. If you arrive in Ireland from any point of departure outside of Eastern Europe, you will indeed find a public far more willing than the one you left behind to grant poets the recognition all but the most ascetic secretly crave. However, this hospitality has never extended to Irish poets w…