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todays rough draft

Gum+Cigarettes in a Litter Free Zone

a shoveling between whale bones moistens the frontiers

corrosive hunkle-buckle

sporadic blood whimper

stairs like skulls refleshed with steel

universal fun-loop sifting expectations

sounds grid this thick city

lost my tongue with the west winds of England

little pimps on the night skimps

stretched beyond the return

straightUP
dunna wanna eat it
or beat it or
mince it or
mete it
before being
sucked under

quit asking questions
about wine on counter, take potato from pocket:

peel, dice, splice

like in a film
with real milk
we can’t get the
sneezes out of our sleeves

get outside with your fuel to burn
something must
break real soon

blistered & barking
up the wrong tree

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This review really hit it for me. I recently read Maurice Scully's _Livelihood_ and Geofrey Squires _Untitled and Other Poems_ is on deck (I love that baseball term. It is baseball, right?)

I think this is from The Nortre Dame review, but I found it via goofle (I mean google).


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…