Category: Literature

  • Poetry: Commuting with Baudelaire

    Commuting with Baudelaire

    We are living in a time when there are no gentlemen.
    So, women stand for hours without being offered any seats.
    It’ s a privilege which they have laboured for and for centuries,
    It appears! Madness, I know, but you must respect them.

    As you watch their small fists tightening on the headrests,
    And the veins on their slight wrists seeming to almost split…
    That is just at the point when you must resist to offer them a seat
    And rather plant your own arse further into it!

    As I have said before, we are living in a time without any gentlemen
    And highly vocal women, who apparently know exactly what they want.
    The children are so dissolute you could be forgiven for not showing!

    Resist, resist, resist! Resistance, apparently is the source of all Art.
    Resist recapitulating altogether. And whatever you do,
    Don’t Fart!

  • Island State

    On 55th West between 8th and 9th Street I just miss getting mugged. I hear them coming up behind me, two street kids and I speed up. They hit the next guy, take his phone and break his arm. I back off, slipping between parked cars as they run away. He’s just sat there on the pavement in his neatly pressed suit, cradling his broken arm. This is a quiet street, neatly trimmed hedges, expensive apartments. I say something like “Can I help?”, but he doesn’t speak English. The cops arrive and I give them a vague, racist sounding description of ‘the perps’. Two days ago I would have helped.

    Two days ago I owned a can of pepper spray, picked up for fifteen bucks on Venice Beach because Inglewood felt dangerous. But they scan you and pat you now, before they let you board the ferry to Ellis Island, so I trashed it. I sit on a rock in Central Park and call friends in Ireland and Russia on the last of my credit. These calls last a surprisingly long time. I am completely alone.

    So I get a ticket for the Tonight Show. If Letterman looks a little orange on camera, then he’s ruddy as a horse under the lights. Tonight’s guests: Sean Lennon, Billy Bob Thornton and a girl who hypnotises lizards and poses them in hand sown outfits. I feel sorry for Lennon, this nerdy, yupster kid, born overshadowed. Billy Bob’s here promoting a movie. He’s brought along a picture of himself as a fat toddler. We laugh as instructed. ‘The CBS orchestra’ make a good house band, tight session musicians in loud ties and late 30’s paunch. I watch Dave’s hands shake during the ad break, as pages coo and pamper him. Is he still nervous after all this time? Is it Parkinsons, rattling through the L-dopa? Is it the DTs?

    Up and down the Upper East Side stalk little old ladies with pointed faces. Their midget pooches, humiliated in booties, snap against their leads like bobbinhead Johny Rottens in the CBGB’s gift shop. I pick up a naggin in 7-Eleven, mixing it with the too sweet remains of a Big Gulp. Tiny grocery stores are selling mountains of outsize pumpkins. Jews for Jesus thrust leaflets at passing Hasidim, angry under their beards. Columbia is a squall of grey bricked buildings splashed onto a sandstone thoroughfare. I don’t know if it’s a good school, but I’ve read about the naked campus parties. I am titillated and terrified in equal measure. The campus is quiet, and I potter about the swollen crypt of St Paul’s chapel, come to rest on the steps of the library and wish I went here.

    Laura and I are mid-conversation. One of those drunken transitions you can’t remember happening. I’m talking up the Aran Islands, staring at this fake pearl necklace on her tan wrist. She’s a senior, majoring in Neuropsych, and we talk about functional imaging and the new Girl Talk record. She hop skips and jumps before me down the steps, right out of the college and across to a red brick hall of residence and it’s happening finally, that manic pixie dream romance.

    At the party she tells me to wait. I stand in a dark room containing an actual keg that no one actually drinks from. Minutes go by and I think of leaving to buy condoms. I wonder how I’ll get back in. I worry about us finding a room, I wonder if I can sneak her back to my hostel, if I’ll have to bribe whoever’s on the desk. I wonder how long it’s been since I jerked off, and whether I’ll be able to last with a stranger. I lick my palm to check if my breath stinks.

    Laura is kissing a tall Indian kid in t-shirt that reads ‘Cover me in Chocolate and feed me to the Lesbians’. I am crammed on a couch, beside a heavy freshman with a dyed blonde goatee. He reads aloud from his first novel. No one is listening.

    Charles, Charlie, Chuck, had been dead for a very long time. Music had become little more than sound. He gathered and collected films that he did not watch. He purchased books that he never found the time to read. He feared the theft of these collections, though they gave him little pleasure. He carried paperbacks like stowaways in his leather satchel, wearing away the covers on unbroken spines. He had walked through pairs of shoes in the time between reading one book and the next. Periodically he would attempt to consume something; some item of narrative literature, some important work of cinema, some critically acclaimed contemporary composition. Books were too long. Songs were too kitsch or too sincere. Films simply frightened him. It was as though, long ago he had run out of a burning building and into the snow, and he could not remember how to return or find a place to escape the cold.

    In my mind the East Village is an all night street party, tuned in dropped out business men sleazing on boho bimbos in dyed pashminas and lambswool ponchos. I am disappointed. At 14th St, yuppies are replaced by respectable gay couples and hipsters. The air gets smoky, moleskins appear, even the homeless wear designer cast offs. Disneyland Manhattan. I watch a twenty something couple eat day old burgers from the twirling, spoiling windows of an Instamat. I puke in front of them on purpose.

    They show midget porn in the Double Down Saloon. We drink Coronas and the house cocktail, Ass Juice. The money shot in midget porn comes after the action, when the burley stud zips up his little person partner and fucks the suitcase out the window. I am flirting with a roller derby queen. We have consumed great quantities of some cheap imitation of falafel, which demands drink in its roiling savoury language, and on its own bowel wrenching terms. On the street her Disney princess miniskirt and whiffle bat get catcalls. I line up shots at the wing mirrors of parked cars and strike out.

    Rain falls my last morning in Manhattan. It drops in fat wet polyps that hit and burst as I drag my sodden case across Midtown, heart of a heartless empire.  I spend my last damp dollars on American candy for my Irish girlfriend. I take the Long Island Railroad from Penn Station, watching the neighbourhoods get shorter and poorer. These carts were once crewed by gangster taggers in matching costumes. They’d rob you and stick you and keep on walking. Eyes like scissors, riding high over the low down world. They’re gone now, civilised. I am fifteen hundred feet up in the air. Outside, the wingtips blink clouds purple, and the ice wind wracks this comfortable shell.

    * * *

    Feature Image: view of the stage with David Letterman’s desk and guest seats.

  • Poem: ‘Congratulations’ by Kevin Higgins

    Poets may be divided into three types: those of us who must be and are, or have been, suppressed, at least until after we are dead; those whose subject matter is so commonplace/banal that it doesn’t matter either way; and then those who become pure decorations of the Regime.

    One key qualification for a poet becoming a pseudo-poetic decoration for the Regime – a quality much on display this week – is to know when not to say that a terrible, long poem taking one side in a war in a most crude and unthinking way, is exactly as terrible as it is because he/she hopes to be published in the future (or again) in the same venue, suspecting, probably correctly, he/she would be less likely to achieve such publication if he/she doesn’t keep his or her beak strategically shut on such occasions.

    Indeed, indiscreet beak-opening might make an invitation to participate in an upscale literary cabaret or two less likely. This is what it has come down to.

    As I sit/lie on what might turn out to be my death bed – I am doing everything I can to survive and haven’t at all given up hope but really have no idea if I’ll be here this time next year – I find myself laughing at the Irish poetry world.

    The phenomenon is not unique to contemporary Ireland, though its Irish branch has particular characteristics, usually involving a special relationship with NATO and the sacred 12.5% corporate tax rate. But such tendencies are spreading like an international fungus. Every part of the English-speaking world has a local variant of concern.

     

    Congratulations
    after Zbigniew Herbert

    A few will be obliterated
    but in an nice way.
    We don’t like the word censorship,
    abolished it yonks ago.
    Certain word combinations must be
    nudged to the bottom of the basket
    until after we’ve all safely
    choked to death in our dressing gowns.
    Though, worryingly,
    they always find their way back out again.

    Others, we can leave optional.
    You know the drift:
    the suffering of academics, their divorces
    after the regrettable entanglement with the student;
    how it felt to phone the crematorium
    to book a spot for their ninety five year old father.

    But for having so successfully helped it
    deny its own existence
    the regime has made you
    compulsory.

    Your personage will be strapped
    into an airplane seat, exported
    to Asia and beyond,
    like a Bangladeshi made t-shirt in reverse.

    Your metaphors and similes will be at the service
    of the International Happiness Corporation –
    Diversity Department –
    currently headquartering here for tax purposes.
    You will walk through all the right doors
    secretly wearing their logo.

    Life will be mostly festivals
    of enforced grinning,
    during which you’ll pass the hours
    counting each others’ teeth.

  • When I’m Allowed Leave The Cancer Ward

    When I’m Allowed Leave The Cancer Ward
    with thanks to Claire Higgins for four of these lines

    When I get out of here
    I plan to open a factory
    that manufactures miniature guillotines
    which will be given away gratis
    to bullied schoolchildren
    to keep hidden in their bedrooms
    until I give the signal.

    When I get out of here
    I plan to finally take that evening class
    in Industrial Espionage for Beginners
    where I’ll learn to break into laboratories
    to steal the antidotes
    to Elon Musk and
    Ursula von der Leyen.

    When I get out of here
    things will be given their proper names;
    the centre of every town re-titled
    Oppression Square, during a ceremony
    in which the Mayor (or someone prepared
    to dress up as the Mayor)
    tells the truth about who died,
    how, and why.

    Worst of all,
    I’ll start a new Irish Literary Awards
    to be held annually at an imaginary hotel.
    Categories will include: least authentic
    poetry collection, most intellectually empty
    novel, most cowardly book review,
    publisher who made the biggest
    eeijt of themselves this year,
    most over obvious networker,
    most irrelevant but self-important
    anthology,  most incestuous
    “My Books of The Year” list
    in which the author chooses
    pals who’ve all given him
    fab reviews too.

    And you’ll sit there constricting
    the exact same muscle
    Auntie Mary did when she was in fear
    someone was about to take
    the Archbishop’s name in vain.

  • Poetry: Michaela Brady

    White Bay Park

    And cows trod on thickened sand,
    Bow their heads beneath the sun.
    It’s as if this summer was planned,
    With days that cannot be done.

    That sun implores, infects my sight,
    Surges fire through greying sea,
    Through my heart and through the night,
    Perennial, I am allowed to be.

    Could I spend an eternity here?

    If I lassoed eternal dusks,
    If you were caught as well,
    All our present woes would rust
    In Atlantic’s alabaster swells.

    But life will change, not just the tides.
    I cannot say when I’ll be back.
    You cannot know what you’ll decide.

    Could eternity wait for our return?
    I cannot trust a view revived
    To last a lifetime I have hardly lived.

    Feature Image: Daniele Idini

  • Fragment Number 64

    It was Saturday morning. Maher was lying in bed. He had just woken up. It was early yet, before eight he could tell. When he had been a much younger man, he had been able to lie in for hours on end but ever since he had passed 30, which was almost twenty years ago now, he had found it impossible to sleep on once he had woken, which was typically before eight on the weekend, maximum, and 5 or 6am minimum on the weekdays.

    He looked around him. Light was already beginning to filter through the dark yellow curtains that he had bought particularly for his bedroom. This had been one of his greatest discoveries in terms of interior decoration, as the soft light they diffused helped him to acclimatise gently to his surroundings. And, considering he was such an early riser, he needed this bit of morning douceur. It was the first in a complex and methodical line in his defences against the onslaught of the day. For Maher, life was an unending struggle, or at least, series of struggles. War in short. He had always felt this, ever since he was a young boy. So, when he finally came across the figure of Heraclitus, in his first year in university while majoring in philosophy, he had been endlessly consoled to read fragment 64, literally translating as the thunderbolt steers all things. In other words, from out of conflict came everything!

    As he lay lying there on his bed watching the wedge of light widen a little through the gap in the heavy curtains, Maher could not but help think of the unending cosmos. This was reflexive. Maher, obviously, was a morning person. It was, without any doubt, one of the plethora of reasons why he was single. His ex-wife used to joke to him, after they had separated of course, of the years of abuse he used to subject her to with cosmologically ruminations like this, first thing in the morning. She would joke, sometimes almost seriously, that she was sure that she would be open to pursuing a claim for psychological abuse after the years that they had spent together and all the subsequent trauma she had faced after being subjected to Maher’s monologues.

    She had a rich sense of humour, Maher smiled, thinking about her now. However, obviously not rich enough.

    As Maher finally lifted himself up off the bed, he heard the pitter patter of Dave, the dog. Dave was a Jack Russell. Mad as a box of Jacks! Maher had read somewhere that the breed was rather particular as they were convinced, apparently, that they were human, not canine, which as far as Maher could tell kind of helped to explain their rather anti-social behaviour vis a vis their four -legged brothers and sisters. Dave, for example, basically wanted nothing to do with other dogs. Except of course when he had an urge, and that was basically it. Apart from random acts of sodomy, typically rather perversely involving a rather aged mongrel, Dave, as far as Maher could see, did not particularly give a shit about his fellow quadrupeds.

    Maher sat on the side of the bed, half contemplating the face of his pet who was, as was his systematic habit, sitting in the most physically endearing position imaginable, for human empathy at least. That was another character trait, Dave the dog had a most uncanny knack how to make himself cute as possible, somehow shrinking himself by adapting a very specific posture, typically first thing in the morning, making his shoulders go in, contracting every part of himself so that he appeared physically as small and so as defenceless as possible. The head would tilt then slightly, that was when he really wanted to work on Maher, he would tilt his head in this impossibly cute angle, the eyes then would look appealingly at him so that the invisible bubble-like memes above his head would float up.

    “I need you.”

    And Maher would just look on, indeed as he always seemed to, helplessly with some amazement at the eternal ingenuity and downright cleverness of the creature. Only that very year, animals had been granted sentient status in a government bill, in the UK. Maher had greeted the news with incredulity. After two thousand years and counting, finally, they were now recognised legally as being thinking creatures! Christ, Maher, could not think of any human who met a Jack Russell’s level of conniving and sheer trickery. Personally, such attributes he found rather admirable.

    “Okay, Dave, I’m with you man!” he addressed the dog.

    All too often, Maher observed, Dave was the instigator of communication. Non-verbal, of course. Dave was only prone to bark on two occasions. Firstly, when someone approached the front door, typically in the form of a courier or the postman and secondly, when they were down on the beach and Dave wanted Maher to play fetch, typically with a common stone that Maher would throw for him along the beach.

    Maher sat in a face-off with Dave for a further few moments before Maher eventually capitulated and got up off the bed.

    In the kitchen, Maher approached the coffee machine. He had ordered it from Italy directly from the manufacturer. Oh, it was nothing fancy. It was more like something from the nineties, Maher’s favourite decade. In other words, it was still quite mechanical, rather than electronic. Maher didn’t trust technology, at the best of times. He was of that generation that was somehow in between both worlds. Not quite wholly 20th century, not quite wholly 21st century. Born on the cusp, as it were. And, fundamentally so.

    He ground the coffee which he retrieved from the big golden foiled packet which he also ordered online. It came from Naples. The Neapolitans were great blenders, and particularly of coffee. Maher had once visited the city with Claudia when they were still in their honeymoon period. Oh yes, the days of magic they still remained in the great storehouse of the mind. Golden memories reflected back to him now in the reflection of the light on the coffee packet, such were the unholy correspondences. There was never any escape from memory. It was Proustian, that equation.

    After grinding the beans, he filled the cartridge with five spoons of the precious powder, before screwing it in place. He prayed that the filter was clean before pressing the start button. Miraculously, it sprung to life and poured, literally, into life. When the espresso cup was three quarter’s full, he flicked the switch and admired the colour of the coffee against the white quartz of the counter top. It was a thing of beauty, he told himself. Then, he filled a mug with soya milk and placed it in the microwave heating it for 75 seconds. It was the same beautiful ritual every single day. Finally, when the latte was ready, Maher versed the content of the espresso cup into the mug of warm soya-milk. It turned a beautiful tan. The first sip was always delicious. This is what he needed. Such continuity. Every single morning. It was, after all, the only thing he could be certain of each and every day. This, along with the incredibly rich taste of the coffee in the warmed milk, was what made his morning ritual so particularly special. Maher stood in the kitchenette staring down at Dave. Mornings never got any better, he thought.

    Once Maher had taken Dave outside the front door, the usually circus started. Every time it was the same. Dave, the minute the collar was placed around his neck, would start barking and jumping about. I had forgotten, there was indeed a third criteria for Dave when it came to barking. This was inevitable, the barking. Also, the omission. Maher, considering himself to be a prisoner himself, in the most global existential terms, he had nothing but sympathy for Dave’s predicament, and what is more, rather than get frustrated by Dave’s constant frustration and ultimately his persistent rebellion, Maher openly approved of it. It only cemented, at least for Maher, their already precious bond.

    “Good man Dave, that’s it!” Maher would encourage him.

    “Don’t take any shit, from any of them!”

    It was almost as if by addressing the dog thus, Maher was in fact talking to his alter-ego.

    Up in the castle grounds, Dave, typically, was in his element. Maher had taken him across the cove as the tide had been out and then they had walked across the sandy expanse of coastline, which was usually completely devoid of any human activity. Maher found it was a real tonic as it helped to clear away all of the white noise that still lay combusting in the furnace that was still his mind; all the accumulated stress of the commute, the apparently unending tension which earning a monthly paycheck necessitated, life being reduced as it was to a strict timetable and series of schedules involving train times, scheduled appointments with customers or clients and all of the countless minutiae that made up a working day X 5.

    So, in this way, just watching his dog run about the castle grounds without so much a care in the world somehow seemed to ease Maher’s peace of mind. It was almost as if the dog’s delight was a symbol or sign of Maher’s own peace and contentment so that he began to see Dave almost as an extension of him, in some way.

    Typically, Maher would then take Dave through the small wood which ran alongside the edge of the cliff looking down onto the beach below, although you couldn’t see the cliff’s edge from the paths as they were too far inland, approximately 25 meters or yards away from the edge and whose visibility was also blocked by so many trees and plants and other forms of vegetation.

    Maher loved to walk under the great boughs of the trees and while Dave typically would scamper about the wood, going in and out between the trees just enjoying the general feeling of freedom of movement without having the leash attached to him, Maher would, at the same time, stare up at the sky directly above his head and marvel at the colours that would confront him. The deep azure of the sky contrasted sharply by the verdant colours of the leaf in spring and summer say, although now it was midway through Autumn and there was a slight chill in the air as if someone had switched on the fridge.

    There was a certain section of the wood where the path joined two others and some beautiful old trees formed a kind of island in the center of the junction forming a clearing, effectively, where the sunlight would stream in, particularly during the summer months, but even in the Autumn too like right now. Maher stood there as if appraising the phenomenon of the light pouring into the clearing almost as if in liquified form. It was a phenomenon that he really enjoyed as it made him think of Heidegger who likened these kinds of clearings, for he too was a great woodsman, or Lichtung, to the spaces in the mind where thought could occur in illumination…

    Maher thought it was an extremely poetic analogy or idiom and he often thought of the German thinker when he passed this clearing in the wood. Thinking, in general, is one of the reasons why Maher would come up here as he found the great expanse of space and time, the unlimited acreage of the demesne allied to the timeless nature of the walk, in that he was, for once in the week, not bound to some schedule be it train or academic (Maher was a Lecturer in a third level institute in the city), brought a truly metaphysical dimension, in the proper meaning of the term that is, in other words when spatial and temporal notions collided in a rather fortuitous manner, so actual thought, as opposed to mere reaction, could actually take place.

    Indeed, Maher often found himself engaging in discourses with Dave his dog, in other words, while he was up walking in the local castle grounds, which most of the time were devoid of people, Maher found that it helped him to actually give physical embodiment to his thoughts in the form of his own voice using Dave the dog as a receptacle. It was the old Socratic method of uttering what one thought, (or was it Platonic?) and by doing so one could actually physically embody one’s thoughts in one’s voice so that one could clearly see them better, as opposed to just leaving them unvoiced in the cocoon then of one’s mind.

    “The current situation, it seems to me,” Maher began, throwing cursory looks around him there in the wood to make sure once again that he was in fact alone and seeing that he was he felt further emboldened so that he could continue his discourse proper.

    “Concerning the sexes, that is. It would appear to be really quite clear that there is a profound discord in the nature of popular discussion today between the sexes, that is to say between men and women. Why is this? Well, first of all, let’s try to clarify further what it is exactly we mean by this statement. So, when I say that there seems to be a rupture in communication between men and women I really want to further specify between heterosexual men and heterosexual women as public discourse between the two seems to have become completely splintered or fragmented into the overall discussion of identity politics which seems to be interminable now and which is really strange as both heterosexual couples would appear to be completely excluded in current popular debates, having been taken over by fifth wave feminists now and queer ideologues.”

    Maher laughed aloud at this pronouncement as he imagined the startled sighs of dismay if he had actually dared to utter such a statement on an unsuspecting public in a public forum, it would go off above their heads rather like an invisible bomb. This was good, he imagined himself now preparing to support his thesis before them, standing behind the rostrum. Dave his dog, meanwhile, ran on through the vast expanse of fields embracing, without question, the unlimited nature and scope of physical freedom.

    “I mean, take poetry, for example. In the current context, here in the Republic of Ireland today, you have an almost ludicrous situation where heterosexual men have almost been banished from the public spectrum of debate and in many public readings because of the extremely predominant nature of identity politics which indeed has completely taken over the realm of all public discourse and particularly in the arts, poetry, always being the poorest medium, being the place where the damage has been almost terminal. What are the reasons for this? Well, without a doubt, poetry was always the preserve of white male middleclass privilege in this country, especially since the origins of the state right up to the 1980’s and nineties. You only have to look at an anthology of Irish poetry from this time, take John Montague’s Faber Book of Irish Verse, for example first published in 1974 and you can see that the representation of Irish men to Irish women is 52 white male Irish poets, and generally hetero, to 2 Irish female poets covering the period from W.B. Yeats (1865 – 1939) to Montague, which is a truly shocking figure, I grant you. The two Irish women poets represented in the book were Evan Boland and Eiléan Ni Chuilleanáin. That ratio is worth repeating so as in order to better take it in.

    52 / 2

    That’s covering a period of say, 100 years.”

    Maher let some time pace, as he walked with his dog, in order to let the content of the figures sink in. This was the country that he had grown up in, after all. If this wasn’t a sign of patriarchal orthodoxy, he didn’t know what else to call it. And it certainly existed, until the sudden war of feminism, which started in the eighties, and then the other voices entered in the nineties. First Gay, Trans, and then Lesbian. Maher remembered it all well and clearly growing up in Cork and the arrival of the first gay bars and vegetarian coops. They were the original pioneers in the new quest for cultural and personal identity.

    Maher stopped to take in the view of the Irish Sea before him, the vast expanse of mercury tinted liquid shimmered before him in the breeze.

    Those were such very different times, he thought. The shoe now was very much on the other foot. Maher was representative of the white middleclass heterosexual poet personified and completely sidelined to such an extent that he couldn’t even get a book published in the country, so under-represented was the nature and style of his work. The situation was actually bordering on the ludicrous. He remembered only just a few weeks previous sitting in a public park where the Arts Council had installed a screen with a number of black and coloured poets reading their work, all women of course with a token gay or other ‘under-represented minority’, that was the preferred terminology, wasn’t it? And this was all happening as a response to the Black Lives Matter protests that had recently happened in the USA and also in the UK. Here was the thing, the percentage of black Irish nationals in the country was hardly similar to the percentage per head in the populations of both the UK and the USA. But that point, extremely relevant you would think in the context, did not seem to occur to the blessed powers that were. No, they were just conforming to the international zeitgeist of identity politics, as opposed to actually considering the literary value of the work. Maher had watched the lectures and talks of Harold Bloom dating from as far back as the nineties when he had seen the whole catastrophe of identity politics taking over. And, he had been right. Look at the situation today!

    Maher just laughed and continued his walk with an even greater vigor. He wanted to go to the walled garden where the flowers were, they were his quarry. He wanted to savour the aroma of a carnation, whatever type of flower was currently on display, Maher wasn’t discriminating, flowers after all were flowers. Though some, it is true, had a greater, or better, aroma than others, it was fair to say.

    Upon entering the enclosure, Maher kept a firm hold of Dave as he seemed to grow even wilder within the enclosed formal garden tethered to the leash once again.

    From the corner of his eye, Maher saw the first flourish of orange roses. These were the L’oreal Trophy which were being buffeted by the breeze. Maher could barely contain himself any longer, he approached the first big carnation, the superlative as it were, which could be clearly distinguished by its vibrant colour. Dave seemed to become even more agitated as he approached the flower. Les Fleurs du Mal. Its many-formed leaf burst in a dazzling display of rich and light orange hues depending on the intensity of the sunlight and the degree of strength of the individual pigment of the leaf. Maher stooped down placing his nostrils firmly yet gently over the flower. The aroma or perfume emitting from the flower penetrated in an unmistakable scent of vanilla with hints of tea. Yet, Maher only thought of her cunt, and how he missed it so!

     

  • Advent Poem by Haley Hodges

    Advent

    We have endured long in the dark.
    It is a burden (A magic? A madness?) particular
    To us. Long endurance of darkness is not light,
    But speaks of a belief that light’s radiance
    Merits enduring long in the dim we know—
    In the dusk we are.

    The world is a bone
    Full of Christ-marrow; its sun a merely
    Mortal star, spending itself to lighten
    What it can, just as the Godman upon
    Entering our long dark did, except
    In his mortality—no mereness.
    He will put flesh again on this
    Old bone, the world, his own
    Milk-fed flesh in the great
    Stable dark, a holy darkness:
    All the void
    Is not.

    This is, and has been,
    And shall be.

    What Mary treasured up
    In her heart was Death
    Leaving the carcass of the world
    At his arrival. She treasured up
    The world alive, all alive
    With a brightness
    That turns the noble sun
    To pitch.

    Feature Image Advent and Triumph of Christ by Hans Memling, 1480.

  • Poetry: Kevin Higgins

    Formation of a Young Irish Intellectual
    after Nazim Hikmet

    You will go far young person
    if as soon as you enter this building
    you follow standard operating procedures
    and stop thinking altogether.

    We will do the thinking for you.
    For the more intellectually curious of you
    this will be as difficult initially
    as nailing yourself to a chair.
    But the appropriate doses
    of the right sort of alcohol will ease
    you into it.

    Before long, you’ll find yourself
    not thinking a thing.
    In your lunch break, you’ll write poems
    that are secretly okay with NATO
    and won’t know where they came from.
    But we’ll know,
    and that’s all that matters.

    We have a library of pre-existing think pieces
    from which you can choose your opinions,
    which we’d like you to massage
    so they seem different at first
    but end up being exactly the same as the rest of us.
    For there is no opinion worth having
    that someone in here hasn’t already had.

    You will be in favour of all the right wars
    without having to sweat the niceties
    and put the appropriate flag
    on your Twitter handle
    without us ever having to mention it.

    You have no idea yet
    the thoughts we have in store for you.

    Feature Image: UCD Quinn School of Business.

  • Poetry: Peter O’Neill

    The Bridge
    After Meryon

    Bridge of Be-ing, all arches mirrrored upon
    The river running – Heraclitean ;
    Looming above… turret trumpeting,
    All Barnonial excess, pure 19th century.

    And aligned in sheer proximity the great monolith
    Of glass and concrete, its emphasis
    Presenting a sheer 20th century existentialism.
    Seen from the quays, it’s pure Baudelaire!

    The candelabara of Street lamps whose
    Illuminating auras burnish the passerby
    Ghosting them with their luminance, and lustre.

    Fate drops like a Stone in the water
    Troubling the stillness with ripples outward,
    And whose faces Flow forever onward into the Dark Pool.

     

     

    Heidegger’s Dasein 

    There is a philosophy born of storm to encompass Be-ing,
    And it assails in the tumult of the unending assault of the days.
    To storm troop on and over into the assailment of the heavens;
    God forbid, what is left of them those splintering fragments!

    As in the woodwinds onrushing conducive to the Heart-fires
    Still governing, just about, out from the holocaust of Thought.
    Essence at the forefront of being, attuning to the tumult
    Of the Sway, like anyone finding their ground.

    Such as the down and outs rolled up in sleeping bags
    On the public benches on the boardwalk,
    Those pupae, or premature mummies,

    Whose alarm clock would be police siren,
    Heineken clock and other hallucinatory prey,
    And whose breakfast would be coloured by the sweet aroma of Hashish!

     

    Gothic Landscape 

    Thought’s colour broodingly bleeds through to the skull,
    Seeped to pour and stream into the brain.
    The bridge is moored there through its anchor
    Above the liquified riverbed afflux.

    The skeletal fragments of a backdrop,
    Etched architecture of a Gothic replica.
    Its organic structure today looms out of the fog
    Which to the stoner is a mesmeric enterprise to induce Funk!

    Through the viral air of a city masked,
    Its denizens the very harbingers of their own Hell,
    Introduces the notion of Dantean comeuppance.

    Tramping along on Bachelor’s Walk,
    Crossing the widened Carlisle over Gandon’s hump,
    Only to reach Eden – the irony sits well.

     

    Roman Noir
    “Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.”
    Raymond Chandler
    For
    Daniel Wade

    John A. Maher, Private Detective, peered out
    The window of the fourth floor of Lafayette,
    His vantage point on par with a Gargoyle!
    The river split the city like a fissure, before him.

    It was a city divided by accent and money.
    On the northside, speech was contracted to the point
    Of almost unintelligibility, which he liked
    Never quite trusting language himself.

    While on the south, it was all accent darling,
    Barring the odd enclave. Maher moves through it all
    Monosyllabic, stony-faced and with mild amusement.

    Humans are weak creatures, so prone to error.
    And some are driven to crime; one needs a hard fist,
    Copious amounts of alcohol, and a certain penchant for metaphysics!

    Feature Image: Lafayette House and O’Connell Bridge © Peter O’Neill

  • Poetry: Michaela Brady

    Uaigneas (Dán do m’athair)

    Crows befriend the bread-handed boy,
    Squawk and battle for a bite.
    Metro wires hiss and wheeze,
    Spite the hills and sun-soaked fields.

    New York blinks its bloodshot stare,
    Recalling you and I were there.
    From azure deli doors,
    Whiffs of baking bread
    Flirt with slow-cook sunburn.

    But now I can be anywhere;
    Western cities groan the same.
    Riding through a London green,
    Gliding through the shadowed dawn;
    I’m convinced it’s just the same.

    But where are you when I awake?
    Where are you, voice beneath music,
    Brimming with stories owned and rented,
    Debates and schemes for woodsy walks.

    Bottled up in bucket seats, we watch
    As worlds of millions catch the day,
    Battle for statues to recall their names.
    We’re facing west to Hudson, south to Thames.

    Do you have a friend these mornings?
    Do you choose to drift and dream?
    Yes, it’s just the same.
    And never is again.

    Feature Image: Daniele Idini