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Lorca:

"Poetry doesn't need skilled practitioners, she needs lovers, and she lays down brambles and shards of glass for the hands that search for her with love."

Maybe I do go to poetry for answers. But not answers in the empirical sense.

What is an answer anyway? Is love an answer or a question or both?

Going to watch Last Tango in Paris later. It's been on my list for a while.

Not sure about the redemption at the end of Mystic River. The silent wife who decides to speak.

Other than that it was quite a good movie.

How to Do Things with Tears is so amazing! Lorca and Grossman are convincing me of "poetic realism."

The imagination as the grounding and inspiration as flight.

Perhaps there is a lot of inspiration going on right now in younger poetry and not enough imagination.

Perhaps is a very caustic word. It has real bite.

Perhaps pretends to be wishy washy but we all know what it really means.

Not all wanderers are lost.

Must always ride the caboose.

Tomorrow moves me deeply.
Today I scorn.





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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.

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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…