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I read at Xing the Line last night. My last reading before leaving to live in Madrid. On the eve of the big vote. Maybe I will not be gone long. Who knows. I hope I am still an EU citizen after today. Then again I have been meaning to change my passport for an Irish one for a while. But it is a pain. My birth certificate says Silcock. I used to be Silcock. At age six I become Slease. Names and nations. Ugh!

Also Spain is electing a government this week. I am learning how to count in Spanish. Also vegetables. And the pronouns. There is a long way to go.

Fantastic reading last night. At The I'Klectik Art Lab. In Old Paradise Yard. Near Waterloo. Great art space. A great pleasure to read with the fabulous artists/poets Laura Wetherington  (who is visiting all the way from Reno Nevada), and the amazing Stephen Watts. Great community. Great audience. We went to The Pineapple afterwards. Near William Blake's house. Who has since departed.

Crossing my fingers for good results for UK tonight!


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Another Ireland: Part Two
Maurice Scully, The Basic Colours. Durham, UK: Pig Press, 1994.
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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…