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Open Eye

It was great to meet Tim Botta and hear some of his poetry. He read a poem about the box Joseph Cornell never made. He also read a Pantoum and Villanelle. He is workin the language all right. Some great obsessions/ repititions throughout the performance. And performance it was. No nice quiet poetry voice. All guts and gusto. Yeah!

Speaking of the no box. I need to run to the store and find some kind of chemical that erases the scent of cat poop. Our cat Mona keeps pooping behind the television. The vet said she may have negative memories of the litter box. It must be recent. We've had her for over three years and she's never pooped outside the litter box (unless it was for revenge. One time she pooped in my shoe because there were ants in her food and she must have thought I put them there). Maybe she had a recent bad bowel movement in the litter box and connected the pain of the movement to the litter box itself. That would be understandable. Now how can I convince her it's not the litter box. A little treat waiting for her when she climbs out of the litter box?

HMMMMMMMMM

Poetry festival coming soon. Only two weekends away. Excited about the Lucipo chapbook for the festival. I am so lucky to live near Carborro. GO Lucipo!

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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…