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some more great thought thinking language

becoming camel again

loading up

before turning into lion to tear apart

and then back

to that mystical gooey eyed

chid (thank you Nietzsche)

yes that is

my favourite

the child

I am not a camel

I am a child




Mindy said…
Hey Marcus I don't know if you remember me or not. My name is Mindy. I used to live across the street from you and your family in Las Vegas. I came across your blog from Shantells. I wanted to say Hi and see how you are doing. It has been such a long time. my e-mail address is if you want to respond. I'd love to hear from you.

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Another Ireland: Part Two
Maurice Scully, The Basic Colours. Durham, UK: Pig Press, 1994.
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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…