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Commute

I am getting ready to start my commute this morning. It's a tad exhausting but not in time. It only takes 45 min. 25 min in the subway and about 20 min on the bus. But it's the traffic. The crowds. The sweaty bodies stacked against each other. The herky jerky bus with abrupt turns and stops and starts. By the time I get to the university I am a bit nackered.

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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.
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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…