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from Fractured Burps (in Progress)

Marchmont Street Soaps


02890446574


via hand signals outside the window


sucking the tips of impertinent fingers


you get A to B


huskypoint


I have a big appetite for love


sleeping on the floor on the sofa


a number of fixed positions


he was just complaints


NVQ’s


what am I?


she got Spanish two months ago


when she was born


I turned it down


what can I pour THIS into?


silver flashes


the flapping bellies of fishes


no more Eng Lit Krits


lookin to find your click thing


women do it more


you can use your imagination


obviously wanting to get the money from IT


three years


I can’t afford IT but I can write IT down


ahhh shucks


beer and the good stew in the gardens


gum brothers vitch vitch


what do You want from ME?


short shorts in Russell Square


let’s get rich IN SPIRIT

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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…