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saturday morning revision

THE PRINCE OF MIST BY THE BEST SELLING AUTHOR OF THE SHADOW OF THE WIND
I’m petite Asian and can handle any cock
they fix everything here
take your sandals to the shop
i have cabbed upon this 
mind barking like a cork
this is eski yeni
in other words Samsara
hello kebab
hello clam
hello sweeeeet buttery balik ekmek
I weep too much
or not at all
highway of plastic gunk
hello beer and no sex 
hello dear hello
WAKE UP
we live in a desert
in spring it is mud
in summer it is brittle
in winter it snows
Oh Ankara
father is getting old
Turks sell turquoise 
when god stiffens yr spine
serve a nut to yr squirrel
Oh Joseph Smith
do you want my hand
or my bed
yr front is hiding yr rear

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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…