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quick takes from the moleskin

we were glad our skin had been
broken the heads were cut
from defenders 150
women of the castle over-
whelmed by steaks
of fire we were reduced
to nature's garb there is
trouble in my bosom
the blind prophet
had a squint
bound into
the boundless
on this blank
sheet of paper
the mythopoetic
cabbage it's summer &
large spiders
are entering
the house.

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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…