Ballad of Lucy Kryton “There will not be a woman Prime Minister in my lifetime”, Margaret Thatcher The morning sun falls whitely on the lashes of Lucy Kryton. Her blondeness fully insured against theft, fire and termites. Her forehead the hard reality that care of both the elderly and the daft are best handled by … Read more
Kevin Higgins’s sixth poetry collection under the sardonic title Ecstatic starts with a dedication to the recently married Julian and Stella Assange, and this initial gesture is a perfect set-up for the poetic world we are about to enter. Prepare to be disillusioned, experience embarrassment for your government, mourn the death of journalism (and common … Read more
Kyrie Rotten fruit, rotten root. Hands up Don’t shoot. Kyrie eleison. By the waters of Columbine, of Blacksburg, of Newtown, by the Waters of Parkland and Uvalde, There I sat down beneath my desk (Don’t shoot) to weep. Christe eleison. My soul to take. Kyrie eleison. My soul to keep. Gloria There is no No … Read more
Through Fernando Pessoa the flesh was made word. Reminiscent of the renowned Chinese painter Wu Daozi, who, as legend has it, vanished into one of his own landscape paintings, Pessoa (1888-1935), the great Portuguese poet, appears to have disappeared bodily into his written works. Dispersing himself into the many lives of others through the medium … Read more
The prize painting in the National Gallery of Ireland is, without a doubt, Caravaggio’s depiction of The Taking of Christ. The painter presents us with an iconic image of Judas in the act of betraying Christ with the sign of a kiss, as previously arranged with Roman legionaries, who are depicted in costumes from Caravaggio’s … Read more
Poems in the Manner of the Devil After Alexandar Ristović (1933-1994) If you can’t chew on oxtail, eat knuckles instead. The bounty of bedlam, Let these crumbs be your Thanksgiving, Or Last Suppers. Imitation is always the greatest form of flattery. See the world now through the light of wine. Do you have confidence in … Read more
I can barely make out Richard´s handwriting on the piece of torn paper. “Second left” I say, looking down at the words. “After the farm…with eh, the eh, big stables.” “I think we just passed it.” Richard says, looking behind him. “Eyes on the road dude!” I shout. “Please!” I´d almost reached for the wheel. … Read more
Mowing How dare you go, leaving me alone to do the mowing? You used to dig the plantains out by hand and rake the moss but after you went I called in a firm to weed and feed the lawn. It is green and even now, clear of buttercups and daisies. I start at … Read more
“Il y a longtemps,” I repeated. “A long time ago.” My French felt clumsier every minute. Renard Busquet, leading me through the pearl-gray dimness of the silent east wing, let his own native Poitevin French drop like a thin stream of Vouvray wine. “A long time… Tell me again how your honored ancestor sat in … Read more
Safe To Say How ghastly the day before yesterday was now everyone associated with it is dead. In the future I’ll be against what’s going on now. I’ll be on the television, horrified. But not yet. As a civilised person, I’m absolutely in favour of the nice policeman now, one hundred percent against the tear … Read more