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12 Jan 2010

Cybele Cybele
centre of the Anatolian pantheon
ritually castrated a hidden noise
is woven into this Turkish rain
drumming dancing and drinking
upon the long sleeves of a priest
the Turks did give the Dutch
their tulips

veni vidi vici

13 Jan 2009

the lunar bull
is damp with sweat and I am amid the testicles
of another wet winter
a stranger is at my doorsteps
a stranger spoons the silt
of Turkish coffee
into my cup
I have eaten
Ayran sour yogurt
with Kansik Pide &
Ali Nazik Kebap


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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…