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IT DOESN'T GET ANY BETTER THAN TIM ATKINS . . ON ANY PLANET

"English poetry is suddenly in the happy state of being wide and generous enough to feel confident in its ability to draw upon art, music, the emotions, beauty, surrealism, language writing, comedy, the diverse strands of the New American Poetry, and, even (after a long time being banned by an academy which valorizes overwrought language and intellectual showing off) some kind of recognizable, erotic, and enjoyable LIFE. This is the happy and generous environment in which we find ourselves — at last! It has been a long time coming." -- Tim Atkins




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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?)

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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.

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…