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it comes and goes

My lonliness keeps coming and going by the hour. Iron and Wine is either helping or prolonging the sadness. I am not really sure. I am having some very intense dreams. A big swirl of memories every hour or so. I miss the west quite a lot.

I think I may go to Poland or Prague at some point. I am really interested in Eastern Europe. I am also interested in Latin America. I guess I'll just have to see.

Jesus the Mexican Boy is playing in my office right now and I am looking at the mountain. I am carrying a lot of guilt around. I can't just ignore it or intellectualize it away.


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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.

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…