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Where is Aaron?

I try to think of Aaron as not suffering. As no longer feeling pain. When I see a picture of him I am flooded again. When I think of visiting Utah in August and not being able to talk to him, hear him, see him none of this comforts me.

I have never experienced so much crying.

There is nothing to do but lay back down. I am trying not to avoid. Trying not to distract myself.

But maybe sometimes I need to do something else.

For now there is maybe sleep.

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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…