There is a Panther on the Streets of Paris slinging hammocks of intent between each step, hunting unbroken hearts beyond the senses. No one knows. Rumours breeze like leaves along Boulevard Saint Germain. Another takes a table at Le Café Des Arts indistinct in clouds of Vogue Bleu. No one. Not even the off-duty gendarme … Read more
Review: Fog Bells: 8 Contemporary Turkish Poets (Dedalus Press, 2025) “A writer’s life”, the poet Nick Laird once remarked, with a self-assurance befitting a Royal Society of Literature Fellow, “is a cycle of trying to get to their work, sitting staring at the blank screen, wandering off, steering their reluctant bodies back” to the desk … Read more
Luke 2:1-7 _ It was the time Augustus Caesar had cried pax As children used to do, and said the world must now be taxed, _ When Joseph, following the government decree, Went out of Nazareth and travelled down through Galilee. _ If … Read more
Eternal Return My sixteen year old daughter comes to me to complain about Patrick Kavanagh. O great irony, hardly are the words out of her mouth And I can see those fucking potatoes, The drills and the furrows of old bloody Monaghan! Why do we do it? Why does every generation get subjected To this … Read more
“It’s been two days. We gotta to do something. It’s gonna go rotten.” “I know. I’m thinking.” “About what we talked about?” “What?” “Get on the Great Ocean Road. Out past Martyrs Bay.” “Yeah. I know the place. Near the twelve apostles.” “We were there with Jessie that time, remember?” “Yeah, I remember. Alright. … Read more
What comes to mind in Ireland What is black? An absence of light, the cassocks of parish priests, dark peat in an Irish bog. What is brown? A leather belt, decaying plants, veins of iron in stones, the layered bark of a log. What is grey? Lowering clouds, skies threatening rain over windswept water, the … Read more
Vitruvian Woman For Laura A Poem for Halloween Svelte limbs, aquiline and flow, her enjambment; The whole pelvic girdle hypnotically balances, Famously compared to a serpent which dances, And which has all full-blooded heterosexual males entranced…! And, there you have it! The Feminists declare, “No more male gazing here!” Where are we? How did … Read more
Richard Midwinter arrived early at the Garrick and on entering the theatre was struck by a large eighteenth century painting in the foyer of a man with his arm around a stone bust of Shakespeare. Quite a striking image, he thought. Midwinter, himself an actor, stood for a moment staring at the playwright, in the … Read more
September is Here and I want to feel the tingle of autumn over the horizon. The palette of skies, laying themselves nightly before my eyes like Turkish carpets in the souks of Istanbul. I want to anticipate the nuanced change of the leaves, delicate as if the maestro himself draws them into the rising crescendo … Read more
The Revolutionary Andrée Blouin, 1921-1986 A hungry child can never truly sleep. In the orphanage for sinful offspring – our fathers white, our mothers African – the nuns were merciless, severe. I shook by night inside a narrow, iron cot, aware only of my body’s hunger, a heavy shadow shuttering my limbs. I prayed for … Read more