Friday, September 27, 2013

Doesn't red sound nice

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From Ted, a compelling argument for becoming a cyborg.
Monday, September 23, 2013

Anguish

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    Mouth: howl, that shape.    We leave it space.     The space gets bigger. Detail from Francis Bacon...
Thursday, September 19, 2013

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  Once my father and I found a skull in a field with the hum of a bee inside. My father said it was a last thought, that a man...
Monday, September 16, 2013

Expressing Depression

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 'O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall/Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed'. These lines cause me to wonder if the search ...
Friday, September 13, 2013

In My Mouth

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Love, the word:  lush; a summer night’s rain. Itself: taut, brittle.   I had it on the end of a forceps; bead of mercury: ...
Thursday, September 5, 2013

Demented Trees

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Trees keening winter nights away; their wails woven into the wind. Heads of hair like seaweed from the strand, knots tailing limp...
Monday, September 2, 2013

Seamus Heaney

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In the last few days, thousands of people will be remembering the day the met Seamus Heaney; experiencing the sadness one experiences on...
Sunday, September 1, 2013

The Roscommon Anthology - Culture Night Reading

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The Roscommon Anthology   will most likely be launched in October, but the first Anthology reading will happen on Culture Night. Alice Lyons...
Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Voice from 1889 - Robert Browning

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English poet, Robert Browning (1812 – 1889)  reciting his poem 'How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix' on  April 7th, 188...
Thursday, August 22, 2013

Which is my face?

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First published in Prairie Schooner, Volume 85, Number 4, Winter 2011 Mary Byrne Old Mary Byrne posed for the camera holding a photogr...
Monday, August 19, 2013

Famine: Media Coverage

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A Brief Note on an Imminent Famine. Everyone here will starve: each bone will be a stripe, each hand a bowl, each leg a stick. Then there’ll...
Tuesday, August 13, 2013

At One End of a Bench

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  At one end of a bench an old man wearing Winter clothes regards the fountains and Summer through melt-water irises.   This ma...
Saturday, August 10, 2013

The Old Men

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  The breed of old men I’m remembering is gone now. I remember them out from the county home, on walks into town or sitting on the low s...
Tuesday, August 6, 2013

The Fall

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When apples fall like pocket watches among the trees and leaves like closing old hands, the fog is rising, old souls over ...
Tuesday, July 30, 2013

The Irish Curse

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The Irish language is famous, from bardic times, for its curses; a poor host  got a verbal flaying. Likewise praise can be most eloquent an ...