Here is a new elegaic poem about the young men who die every few months or so it seems in my home city of Galway, on the River Corrib, on the wild North Atlantic. Its pubs were once described in a Rough Guide to Ireland as full of “a sullen hedonism” which much amused…
An Exhibition of Photographs Taken by Israeli Soldiers During Their Period of National Service Hosted by Trócaire Gallery of Photography, Meeting House Square, DUBLIN. Since Trócaire had awarded me €100 for my poem “Glaciers” I decided to use some of the prize money to visit this exhibition hosted by them in Dublin. I had of…
The Anchorhold “I must go down to the seas again…. To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a Whetted knife….” Sea Fever, John Masefield. There are no ghosts in this house, those that lived here have all left the house in peace. Even the hungered souls that built it died…
The Hug of Gaia 