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On a Turning Wing: Interview with Paddy Bushe

Paddy Bushe in email conversation with Pat Boran about his latest collection of poems, On a Turning Wing, winner of the 2017  Irish Times Poetry Now Award

How important is place to your writing life, both in terms of subject matter and your actual modus operandi, the locations where poems come to you and/or get written down?

Place is of primary significance in my poems, probably the element which is most essential to them. I think this may be because I grew up in a Dublin suburb to which I felt no familial or imaginative ties, and that I have a consequent yearning to  be integrated into place, to be a part of place.  Of course the result is a willed, creative process rather than an organic, natural one, and this feeds into my poetry.  I can place the genesis of most of my poems, a genesis or place that may disappear in the poem itself, but which is very much part of how it develops and survives – if it does. Love poems, political poems, poems about the nature of art – all of these can begin as a kind of invocation of place. For many years most of my work was ‘placed’ in Iveragh in South Kerry, my adoptive home. In more recent times my focus has widened, but usually with Iveragh not too far in the back of my mind.

Your poems are often ‘set’ far from home, reflecting your interest in travel and, in particular, hill-climbing and mountain-trekking. Are you actively writing, note-taking for instance, when you’re on the move? Can you make final versions in situations like that, or is it a case of poetry being something ‘recollected in tranquillity’, as Wordsworth had it?

I’m always full of good intentions about using notebooks, voice recorders, cameras and so forth. But I’m afraid I’m highly disorganised and unsystematic. Notebooks tend to be lost or neglected fairly quickly, and voice recorders gloriously blank when I return. I do find a camera useful as an aide-memoire, and even a stimulus for some new insight after a trip. Sometimes I get a reasonably complete draft of a poem. But my poems usually “stew” for quite a while after the spark first comes, generally in the form of a line or three which move around in my mind for weeks on end. So yes, I’m actively writing, but perhaps in a way that others wouldn’t notice. That’s my usual method – if that’s not too much of an overstatement – whether my work is placed at home or away.

Of course it’s not just in seemingly adventurous things activities like trekking or visiting formerly remote places (is anywhere really remote today?) that inspiration is to be found – galleries in Madrid or Paris, or conversations with musicians and poets in the extraordinary landscape of An tEilean Sgitheanach (The Isle of Skye) can stimulate poems. The genesis and working-out of most poems is humdrum enough, as it is, I imagine, for most poems by most poets. All of which is really to partially concur with Wordsworth’s ‘recollected in tranquillity’ formulation.

It’s the business of the poet, I think, to create rather than recreate. It’s what’s on the page that’s important, not the stimulus that gave rise to it.

Can you talk a bit about being a poet in two languages, Irish and English? Translation aside, how closely related is your poetry in the two languages? Are their subjects that seem more at home or more suited to one or other language?

I suppose the first thing to say is that English was and remains my first language. That’s a matter of fact, not necessarily a matter of choice. I speak, read and write more instinctively and more fluently in English than in Irish. When I began to write, in my late teens, I tended to write mainly in Irish, for ideological reasons. When I started to write again, in my thirties, aspects of that ideological commitment had faded, and I wrote solely in English. Both choices were limiting, and both exclusivist. I began to write again in Irish, especially when the “starter lines” I spoke about earlier suggested themselves in Irish, or in echoes of Irish. These echoes are especially strong where I live, which is residually a strong Gaeltacht area, and whose landscape, culture and history speak to me in Irish more than in English. So the subject and originating circumstances usually now determine the language in which I write, as well as any social or linguistic situation which may have given rise to the poem.

On a slightly different note, I find it puzzling, and indeed a matter of regret, that poets who are capable of writing in both languages so seldom do so. Of course I understand that poetry needs sources with cultural and linguistic depth that goes beyond competence, but I cannot help thinking that the choice is still often influenced – in both linguistic directions – by a hangover from the nationalistic and political takeover of the Gaelic Revival , which I believe has done great damage to the language. I greatly regret, for example, that Michael Hartnett bade A Farewell to English rather than simply making Irish welcome. Further back, I think it’s a great pity that Douglas Hyde – who opposed the nationalistic hijacking of Irish – did not write “The Necessity for Gaelicising Ireland” rather than “The Necessity for De-Anglicising Ireland”.

Let it be said, of course, that those who would dismiss our Gaelic inheritance, for either ideological or meretriciously pragmatic reasons, do no service to our cultural life. Irish life and Irish poetry should celebrate the possibility of being genuinely bilingual, and not decide to close one eye in order to favour the other.

Many Irish language poets (who speak fluent English) prefer to have others translate their work, perhaps as a way to keep the energy within the language. How do you approach that task with regard to your own poems, a number of which appear in your new book as they did in earlier volumes?

To be honest, translating myself was a matter of necessity as much as of choice – there was no queue of translators lining up to take on the work!  But really I approach the task as I do when I’m translating the poems of, say, Cathal Ó Searcaigh or Gabriel Rosenstock. That is to respect the work, to be as close as possible to the original in meaning, line structure, sound patterns and so forth, while at the same time producing a poem which works in its own right. Obviously, as far as rhyme or other sound patterns is concerned, this can mean finding equivalence rather than exact reflection. The same applies to idioms, metaphors and so on.  As a rule of thumb, if I feel I can’t do that, I try to avoid translating the poem.

Some years back you edited the anthology Voices at the World’s Edge, a volume of poetry and prose (with photographs) inspired by the visits under your guidance of a number of poets to Skellig Michael, a place that’s part of the physical and mental landscape you inhabit. If one could put aside the crassness of turning the Skelligs into a kind of monastic Disneyland, as some Government ministers seem determined to do, how would you describe their real value in contemporary Ireland? Do you think we’ve lost the ability to admire and cherish places we are unable to master?

The island isn’t actually visible from my house, as it lies just behind Bolus Head, the northern headland of the two which enclose Ballinskelligs Bay, or Bá na Scealg, on the edge of which I live. But I suppose you could say that for a long time I have had an imaginative line of sight to Skellig, and that it has been central to my imaginative and poetic world for most of my writing life.

The value of Skellig Michael, even in a country which is increasingly post-religious, is primarily spiritual. In other words, it provides an entrance into otherness, otherness of time and place, otherness which I have seen have a profound effect on believers and atheists alike.

And of course there is the extraordinary wildlife and physical beauty of the place, which are part of that spiritual dimension, along with its role in mythology, history, folklore and the various combinations of all three which animate our perceptions of it. The commoditisation xxx of this extraordinary and place is indeed crass. One of the most shameful things I have seen in respect to Sceilg Mhichíl is a tourism promotion film, for which Fáilte Ireland actually paid €25,000 to Disney Lucas, and in which the Minister for Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht spoke. Neither she nor anybody else in the film even mentioned that there was an intact Early Christian monastic site on the island. It’s only quality, the viewers are implicitly told, is how well it fits into the Star Wars narrative. It would be shocking were Donald Trump to say it. To have a government with this mentality – and this went to the highest level of government – is profoundly disturbing. Significantly J.J. Abrams expressed amazement in the film that he had been permitted to film on Skellig. He must have been amazed at the gombeen mentality that secretly gave him that permission.

Your new book takes its title from a line by Hopkins. And Hopkins is something of a guiding presence in a good deal of your writing. What is it you admire in him? Is his influence more marked in your English language writing?

I had always liked Hopkins, from schooldays on. I admire his open and absorbent sensibility, and I recognise, even though I no longer share, his fear-ridden and guilt-ridden Catholicism. He makes great poetry out of feelings and thoughts that I grew up with. I am also fascinated by his intelligence and craft. It seems to me that he combines the sensibility of a romantic poet with the intelligence and craft of a metaphysical poet. When I did an MA with the Open University after retiring from teaching in 1990, I wrote a dissertation on the influence of his feelings of exile and alienation on his Dublin poems. So I read his work fairly intensively at that time. And around the same time, on Skellig Michael, I looked into an abyss (I can be terrified of height) and Hopkins’s lines leaped into my mind:

O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall
Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed. Hold them cheap
May who ne’er hung there. Nor does long our small
Durance deal with that steep or deep. Here! creep,
Wretch, under a comfort serves in a whirlwind: all
Life death does end and each day dies with sleep.

That led to my long sequence “Hopkins on Skellig Michael” where my obsession with Skellig coalesced with my enforced obsession with Hopkins. I should make it clear that Hopkins never went there, but I used an imaginary overnight retreat by Hopkins to explore Hopkins’s mind and work, while physically exploring the island.

As you say, Hopkins is an overt presence in this new collection, especially in “Of Paint and Clay and Words”, a line of which gives the collection its name. As regards his general influence on my writing, I’m sure there is, in both languages. But I think that’s for others to trace. It would feel presumptuous for me to do so.

The Scottish Gaelic poet Somhairle MacGill-Eain / Sorley Maclean has been another significant influence, and you walked in his footsteps, literally and metaphorically, when you translated his collected poems into Irish (Ó Choill go Barr Ghéarain, Coiscéim, 2013) a couple of years back. There’s great love of and understanding of place in his work, and great sadness at what is lost. Is it too much, do you think, to suggest that great poetry always walks a line between celebration and elegy?

Somhairle, whom I had the privilege of meeting a few times, is certainly an influence, in both languages. I think he was by far the greatest Gaelic poet, Irish or Scottish, of his era. That’s why I took the decision, against all good sense and reason, to translate his collected poems into Irish. I was very aware that the potential readership of poetry in a threatened minority language translated into a sister threatened minority language would be of interest to a minority of a minority of a minority. But I got enormous satisfaction from it, despite it being such challenging work over a period of three years.

I have also dedicated two poems to him, one in English and another in Irish. And, although the connections is disguised rather than overt, the poem ‘The Music Master and the Poet’ in my new collection is based on a story the poet and musicologist John Purser, who lives on Skye, told me about himself and Somhairle.

I also got great satisfaction out of working with my son, Éanna de Buis, on his film Ar Lorg Shomhairle: In Sorley’s Footsteps in which we traced Somhairle’s poetry in the landscape of Skye and Raasay which stimulated so much of his poetry, even though he rarely took landscape description as a subject for his poems. But he embodied love poems, political poems and historical poems in his landscape, in works of enormous power, beauty and above all, integrity.

I think there is a great deal of truth in what you say about elegy and celebration in great poetry. I’ll pass on whether or not it applies to all great poetry, but it certainly applies to many great works of art, be they literary, dramatic, musical, visual or whatever. And I would certainly think that all elegy necessarily implies celebration.

That sense of both celebration and elegy is certainly evident in the poem sequence here about Tech Amergin, the arts centre in which you and your wife Fíona were very much involved for many years. Arguments like this often, and rightly, take place in the public arena of a local newspaper. What are you hopes and intentions in giving it a new life in verse?

That sequence, which I found extraordinarily difficult to write, and still find difficult to read aloud, started out as an outburst of rage and of contempt for the bureaucracy which, in an act of corporate revenge and vindictiveness, got rid of the voluntary group which for a number of years, on a completely voluntary basis, had run a high-quality, wide-ranging arts programme at a tiny cost, and at no cost to the educational committee which held legal ownership of the centre, again entirely due to local voluntary effort. At the moment, four years later, there is a minimal programme which is a shadow of what there used to be.

The detail of that deliberate destruction of an arts programme is for another day. But as I was writing the poem, I realised that merely to vent my anger and contempt might give me temporary satisfaction, but would tell a very limited story. So I decided also to celebrate what there had been, and to try to show a little of how precious it had been in the community, and how the bureaucratic bullying which lay behind the destruction of that preciousness hurt the community which the bureaucracy nominally served. I hope the poem speaks for the belief that all communities are enriched by access to the arts, and becomes a plea for that access to be universal.

***

Link: On A Turning Wing by Paddy Bushe

On A Turning Wing

Paddy Bushe’s latest collection of poems opens with a stirring suite on music and art, seeing them not as rarefied experiences but as fundamental and nourishing encounters for both their makers and their audience. The distinction between here and elsewhere is blurred, and the playing of an Irish piper seems echoed by that of other musicians in far-flung parts where the poet’s enthusiasm for travel and hill-walking takes him.

The transition from such open, light-filled spaces to the more uncertain areas of Irish political life makes perfect sense in Bushe’s work, the poet’s freedom bringing with it a responsibility to engage. And Bushe’s defence of a local arts centre is lifted far above what might have been a parochial dispute into a passionate argument for access to the arts beyond favouritism or political interference.

On a Turning Wing contains some of Bushe’s finest sketches of the natural world, as well as touching lyrics on the birth of a grandchild and the joy and consolation of companionship and love.


Blackbird

for Ciairín, three months pregnant

The scissoring blades had come so close
That I almost sliced the nest and its three
Speckled blue eggs, suddenly and brutally
Exposed, balanced, on a few new shoots
Of the hedge I was cutting. And I thought
She would never return, that the nest
And eggs would shrivel away into a sad
Might have been. But less than an hour
Saw her brown tail again cocked over the nest,
Her yellow beak and accusing eye willing me
Not to betray her again, willing the wind
Not to capsize her world, willing the blades
To hold off awhile. And now a gale has come
And gone, and she is still sitting on the eggs,
And I am holding my breath day after day,
Willing her just a few more weeks of grace.

May 2013

To Ring in Silence

To Ring in Silence is Paddy Bushe’s New and Selected Poems, drawing on all of his previous English language collections and including a number of Irish language poems, accompanied by the author’s own translations.
To Ring in Silence: New and Selected Poems gathers work from all of his previous publications, and, as Bernard O’Donoghue suggests in his Introduction, shows Bushe to have assumed Michael Hartnett’s mantle as “the leading poet writing in both Irish and English.”
“This book does a magnificent service to Irish literature and the Irish language, by showing them to be anything but parochial. Its humanism reaches out to all times and cultures and places. We should take note. And it is something of a miracle that a work which is so instructive and thought-provoking is at the same time so riveting and enjoyable.”

ISBN 978 1 904556 88 6 Paperback
140 x 216 mm
February 2008

My Lord Buddha of Carraig Éanna

Commencing in Norwich Cathedral where “organ-pipes, sunstruck by the last rays / Through the high cathedral windows, beamed / Beyond sin or sanctity”, the poems in Paddy Bushe’s new collection explore questions of identity and self- knowledge, particularly in the light of time spent in places such as the abandoned monastic settlement of Skellig Michael, or the mountains of Nepal. The coming together of here and there, of East and West, is alluded to in the title poem, centred around a plastercast of the Buddha in the poet’s garden “Rooted in all this betwixt and between!”

The fourth section is made up of poems that deal with mortality, fragility, the threat of loss and “utter absence”, as well as poems of joy and transcendence. The book closes with The Howl for Art Ó Laoghaire, the poet’s translation of the great eighteenth-century Gaelic poem, Caoineadh Airt Uí Laoghaire

“Despite the tough tone of Bushe’s poetry, reflecting its material, there is an intelligent sensitivity always at work that does justice to the more tender of human experiences” – The Irish Times


ISBN 9781906614522 paperback
97 pp, 216 x 140 mm / 5.5″ x 8.5″
February 2012

Voices at the World’s Edge

Paddy Bushe (ed.)
Foreword Marie Heaney
Photographs John Minihan

For some 700 years after its foundation in the 6th century, the monastery on Skellig Michael off the Kerry coast (a climb of 670 steps above sea level) was home to a vibrant monastic community, and one of the earliest of such settlements in Ireland.

For this unique and fascinating anthology, Dublin-born Paddy Bushe (long since living within sight of the Skelligs) invited some of Ireland’s best-known poets to spend the night among bee-hive huts, puffins and gannets, and to write of the experience at the one-time ‘edge of the world’.

FEATURING POETRY AND PROSE BY
Paddy Bushe, John F. Deane, Theo Dorgan, Kerry Hardie, Biddy Jenkinson, Seán Lysaght, Derek Mahon, Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin, Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill, Bernard O’Donoghue, Cathal Ó Searcaigh and Macdara Woods.


Special Collector’s Editon

The Special Collector’s Edition of this book comes in a grey slipcase, and is limited to 50 numbered copies only, each of which is signed by all of the contributing poets, the photographer and the publisher. As such it is a rare and special volume. A small number are still available. Please contact the publisher for further details.

Patrons & Supporters

Dedalus Press is very grateful to the following for their patronage and support.

PATRONS

Paddy Bushe
Sven Kretzschmar
Philip J Murphy
Denise Ryan


SUPPORTERS

Catherine Ann Cullen
Tony Curtis
Kerry Hardie
Catherine Phil MacCarthy
Iggy McGovern
Niall Mac Monagle
Noel Monaghan
Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin
Mark Roper
Gerard Smyth
Jessica Traynor

 

(To become a Patron or Supporter, and receive copies of all future Dedalus Press titles as they are published, please see here.)

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The Deep Heart’s Core

In our new anthology, The Deep Heart’s Core: Irish Poets Revisit a Touchstone Poem, some 100 poets accept the invitation to revisit a favourite, key or touchstone poem of their own, and offer a short commentary on same — as they might at a live event.

The result is an illuminating, thought-provoking and wholly engaging volume, a unique anthology as selected by the poets themselves, and a rare glimpse into the thinking, feeling and craft behind the finished poems.

The Deep Heart’s Core is both an ideal introduction to contemporary Irish poetry for the general reader and a handbook for the aspiring practitioner or student.

The Deep Heart’s Core is edited by Pat Boran and Eugene O’Connell and features a foreword by Bernard O’Donoghue.

For further information click here.


LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Graham Allen: ‘Military Hill’ – Tara Bergin: ‘This Is Yarrow’ – 
Eavan Boland: ‘That The Science Of Cartography Is Limited’ – Dermot Bolger: ‘While We Sleep’ – Pat Boran: ‘Waving’ – Eva Bourke: ‘Evening Near Letterfrack’ – Heather Brett: ‘Bankrupt’ – Paddy Bushe: ‘After Love’ – Rosemary Canavan: ‘Crab Apples’ – Moya Cannon: ‘Chauvet’ – Ciaran Carson: ‘Turn Again’ – Paul Casey: ‘Exile’ – Philip Casey: ‘Hamburg Woman’s Song’ – Sarah Clancy: ‘Homecoming Queen’ – Michael Coady: ‘Assembling The Parts’ – Enda Coyle-Greene: ‘Metathesis’ – Tony Curtis: ‘Bench’ – Pádraig J. Daly: ‘Complaint’ – Kathy D’Arcy: ‘Probable Misuse Of Shamanism’ – Michael Davitt: ‘Déirc’ / ‘Alms’ – Gerald Dawe: ‘The Water Table’ – John F. Deane: ‘The Poem of the Goldfinch’ – Mary Dorcey: ‘Trying on for Size’ – Theo Dorgan: ‘On a Day Far From Now’ – Cal Doyle: ‘Sirens’ – Martina Evans: ‘The Day My Cat Spoke to Me’ – 
John FitzGerald: ‘The Collectors’ – Gabriel Fitzmaurice: ‘Dad’ – Anne-Marie Fyfe: ‘The Red Aeroplane’ – Matthew Geden: ‘Photosynthesis’ – Rody Gorman: ‘Imirce’ / ‘Bodytransfermigration’ – Mark Granier: ‘Grip Stick’ – Vona Groarke: from ‘Or to Come’ – Kerry Hardie: ‘Life Gone Away is Called Death’ – Maurice Harmon: from ‘The Doll with Two Backs’ – James Harpur: ‘The White Silhouette’ – Michael Hartnett: ‘That Actor Kiss’ – Eleanor Hooker: ‘Nightmare’ – Breda Joy: ‘November Morning’ – Brendan Kennelly: from ‘Antigone’ – Patrick Kehoe: ‘The Nearness of Blue’ – Helen Kidd: ‘Sunspill’ – Noel King: ‘Black and Tan’ – Thomas Kinsella: ‘Marcus Aurelius’ – Jessie Lendennie: ‘Quay Street, Galway’ – John Liddy: ‘Scarecrow’ – Alice Lyons: ‘Arab Map of the World With the South at the Top’ – Aifric MacAodha: ‘Gabháil Syrinx’ / ‘The Taking of Syrinx’ – Jennifer Matthews: ‘Work Out’ – John McAuliffe: ‘Today’s Imperative’ – Joan McBreen: ‘My Father’ – Thomas McCarthy: ‘The Garden of Sempervirens’ – Philip McDonagh: ‘Water is Best’ – Afric McGlinchey: ‘Do not lie to a lover’ – Iggy McGovern: ‘Knight Errant’ – Medbh McGuckian: ‘Aunts’ – John Mee: ‘Travel Light’ – Paula Meehan: ‘The Moons’ – John Moriarty: ‘Faust’ – Aidan Murphy: ‘Touching Parallels’ – Gerry Murphy: ‘Poem in One Breath’ – Madelaine Nerson Mac Namara: ‘Atlas’ – Caitríona Ní Chléirchín: ‘Feiliceán bán’ / ‘White butterfly’ – Nuala Ní Chonchúir: ‘Tatú’ / ‘Tattoo’ – Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin: ‘The Copious Dark’ – Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh: ‘Deireadh na Feide’ / ‘Last Blast’ – Áine Ní Ghlinn: ‘Tú Féin is Mé Féin’ / ‘Yourself and Myself’ – Doireann Ní Ghríofa: ‘From Richmond Hill’ – Mary Noonan: ‘The Moths’ – Julie O’Callaghan: from ‘Edible Anecdotes’ – Eugene O’Connell: ‘Doubting Thomas’ – John O’Donnell: ‘The Shipping Forecast’ – Mary O’Donnell: ‘The World is Mine’ – Bernard O’Donoghue: ‘The Iron Age Boat at Caumatruish’ – 
Liz O’Donoghue: ‘Suspended Animation’ – 
Mary O’Donoghue: ‘My Daughter in Winter Costume’ – Sheila O’Hagan: ‘September the Fourth’ – Nessa O’Mahony: ‘Lament for a Shy Man’ – Mary O’Malley: ‘The Gulls at Fastnet’ – Leanne O’Sullivan: ‘The Station Mass’ – Karl Parkinson: ‘A Love Letter to Reinaldo Arenas’ – Paul Perry: ‘In the Spring of My Forty-First Year’ – Billy Ramsell: ‘Complicated Pleasures’ – Gerard Reidy: ‘Slievemore Deserted Village’ – Maurice Riordan: ‘Badb’ – Mark Roper: ‘Firelight’ – Gabriel Rosenstock: ‘Ophelia an Phiarsaigh’ / ‘Pearse’s Ophelia’ – Colm Scully: ‘What News, Centurions?’ – John W. Sexton: ‘Sixfaces and the Woman of Nothing’ – Eileen Sheehan: ‘My Father Long Dead’ – Peter Sirr: ‘After a Day in the History of the City’ – Gerard Smyth: ‘Taken’ – Matthew Sweeney: ‘I Don’t Want to Get Old’ – Richard Tillinghast: ‘And And And’ –  Jessica Traynor: ‘Scene from a Poor Town’ – John Wakeman: ‘The Head of Orpheus’ – Eamonn Wall: ‘Four Stern Faces/South Dakota’ – William Wall: ‘Alter Ego Quasimodo’ – Grace Wells: ‘Pioneer’ – Sandra Ann Winters: ‘Death of Alaska’ – Joseph Woods: ‘Sailing to Hokkaido’ – Macdara Woods: ‘Fire and Snow and Carnevale’ – Vincent Woods: ‘Homeric Laughter’ – Enda Wyley: ‘Magpie’.

The Deep Heart’s Core

In The Deep Heart’s Core some 100 Irish poets accept the invitation to revisit a favourite, key or touchstone poem of their own, and offer a short commentary on same — as they might at a live event.

The result is an illuminating, thought-provoking and wholly engaging volume, a unique anthology as selected, and introduced, by the poets themselves, and a rare glimpse into the thinking, feeling and craft behind the finished poems.

The Deep Heart’s Core is both an ideal introduction to contemporary Irish poetry for the general reader and a handbook for the aspiring practitioner or student.

The Deep Heart’s Core — whose subtitle is Irish Poets Revisit A Touchstone Poem — is a work of unbounded riches, and the reader cannot help but be engaged by the wonderful play of poem against prose. There is the sense of a poem bedded down in some other era, the poet as the survivor of the incident who walked away, to find rueful, or blissful, or conflicted memories in the poem’s afterlife, as he,or she, exhumes again for the purposes of the anthology … [A]n essential collection for lovers of contemporary Irish poetry.
— RTÉ TEN


 

THE DEEP HEART’S CORE: LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Graham Allen: ‘Military Hill’ – Tara Bergin: ‘This Is Yarrow’ – 
Eavan Boland: ‘That The Science Of Cartography Is Limited’ – Dermot Bolger: ‘While We Sleep’ – Pat Boran: ‘Waving’ – Eva Bourke: ‘Evening Near Letterfrack’ – Heather Brett: ‘Bankrupt’ – Paddy Bushe: ‘After Love’ – Rosemary Canavan: ‘Crab Apples’ – Moya Cannon: ‘Chauvet’ – Ciaran Carson: ‘Turn Again’ – Paul Casey: ‘Exile’ – Philip Casey: ‘Hamburg Woman’s Song’ – Sarah Clancy: ‘Homecoming Queen’ – Michael Coady: ‘Assembling The Parts’ – Enda Coyle-Greene: ‘Metathesis’ – Tony Curtis: ‘Bench’ – Pádraig J. Daly: ‘Complaint’ – Kathy D’Arcy: ‘Probable Misuse Of Shamanism’ – Michael Davitt: ‘Déirc’ / ‘Alms’ – Gerald Dawe: ‘The Water Table’ – John F. Deane: ‘The Poem of the Goldfinch’ – Mary Dorcey: ‘Trying on for Size’ – Theo Dorgan: ‘On a Day Far From Now’ – Cal Doyle: ‘Sirens’ – Martina Evans: ‘The Day My Cat Spoke to Me’ – 
John FitzGerald: ‘The Collectors’ – Gabriel Fitzmaurice: ‘Dad’ – Anne-Marie Fyfe: ‘The Red Aeroplane’ – Matthew Geden: ‘Photosynthesis’ – Rody Gorman: ‘Imirce’ / ‘Bodytransfermigration’ – Mark Granier: ‘Grip Stick’ – Vona Groarke: from ‘Or to Come’ – Kerry Hardie: ‘Life Gone Away is Called Death’ – Maurice Harmon: from ‘The Doll with Two Backs’ – James Harpur: ‘The White Silhouette’ – Michael Hartnett: ‘That Actor Kiss’ – Eleanor Hooker: ‘Nightmare’ – Breda Joy: ‘November Morning’ – Brendan Kennelly: from ‘Antigone’ – Patrick Kehoe: ‘The Nearness of Blue’ – Helen Kidd: ‘Sunspill’ – Noel King: ‘Black and Tan’ – Thomas Kinsella: ‘Marcus Aurelius’ – Jessie Lendennie: ‘Quay Street, Galway’ – John Liddy: ‘Scarecrow’ – Alice Lyons: ‘Arab Map of the World With the South at the Top’ – Aifric MacAodha: ‘Gabháil Syrinx’ / ‘The Taking of Syrinx’ – Jennifer Matthews: ‘Work Out’ – John McAuliffe: ‘Today’s Imperative’ – Joan McBreen: ‘My Father’ – Thomas McCarthy: ‘The Garden of Sempervirens’ – Philip McDonagh: ‘Water is Best’ – Afric McGlinchey: ‘Do not lie to a lover’ – Iggy McGovern: ‘Knight Errant’ – Medbh McGuckian: ‘Aunts’ – John Mee: ‘Travel Light’ – Paula Meehan: ‘The Moons’ – John Moriarty: ‘Faust’ – Aidan Murphy: ‘Touching Parallels’ – Gerry Murphy: ‘Poem in One Breath’ – Madelaine Nerson Mac Namara: ‘Atlas’ – Caitríona Ní Chléirchín: ‘Feiliceán bán’ / ‘White butterfly’ – Nuala Ní Chonchúir: ‘Tatú’ / ‘Tattoo’ – Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin: ‘The Copious Dark’ – Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh: ‘Deireadh na Feide’ / ‘Last Blast’ – Áine Ní Ghlinn: ‘Tú Féin is Mé Féin’ / ‘Yourself and Myself’ – Doireann Ní Ghríofa: ‘From Richmond Hill’ – Mary Noonan: ‘The Moths’ – Julie O’Callaghan: from ‘Edible Anecdotes’ – Eugene O’Connell: ‘Doubting Thomas’ – John O’Donnell: ‘The Shipping Forecast’ – Mary O’Donnell: ‘The World is Mine’ – Bernard O’Donoghue: ‘The Iron Age Boat at Caumatruish’ – 
Liz O’Donoghue: ‘Suspended Animation’ – 
Mary O’Donoghue: ‘My Daughter in Winter Costume’ – Sheila O’Hagan: ‘September the Fourth’ – Nessa O’Mahony: ‘Lament for a Shy Man’ – Mary O’Malley: ‘The Gulls at Fastnet’ – Leanne O’Sullivan: ‘The Station Mass’ – Karl Parkinson: ‘A Love Letter to Reinaldo Arenas’ – Paul Perry: ‘In the Spring of My Forty-First Year’ – Billy Ramsell: ‘Complicated Pleasures’ – Gerard Reidy: ‘Slievemore Deserted Village’ – Maurice Riordan: ‘Badb’ – Mark Roper: ‘Firelight’ – Gabriel Rosenstock: ‘Ophelia an Phiarsaigh’ / ‘Pearse’s Ophelia’ – Colm Scully: ‘What News, Centurions?’ – John W. Sexton: ‘Sixfaces and the Woman of Nothing’ – Eileen Sheehan: ‘My Father Long Dead’ – Peter Sirr: ‘After a Day in the History of the City’ – Gerard Smyth: ‘Taken’ – Matthew Sweeney: ‘I Don’t Want to Get Old’ – Richard Tillinghast: ‘And And And’ –  Jessica Traynor: ‘Scene from a Poor Town’ – John Wakeman: ‘The Head of Orpheus’ – Eamonn Wall: ‘Four Stern Faces/South Dakota’ – William Wall: ‘Alter Ego Quasimodo’ – Grace Wells: ‘Pioneer’ – Sandra Ann Winters: ‘Death of Alaska’ – Joseph Woods: ‘Sailing to Hokkaido’ – Macdara Woods: ‘Fire and Snow and Carnevale’ – Vincent Woods: ‘Homeric Laughter’ – Enda Wyley: ‘Magpie’

 

 

If Ever You Go: A Map of Dublin in Poetry and Song

“[A] map of the city’s imagination
” — Evening Herald

“A hugely valuable anthology, full of sustenance for the heart and soul.” — RTÉ TEN

If Ever You Go: A Map of Dublin in Poetry and Song is a major (400-page) verse anthology from Dedalus Press in which editors Pat Boran and Gerard Smyth present a unique invitation to explore, street by street, one of the world’s most famous literary cities through the poems and songs it has inspired down the ages.

A virtual tour of the city and environs, If Ever You Go takes the reader on a journey through streets broad and narrow, featuring verse both familiar and new, historical and contemporary, by writers whose work adds up to an intimate and revealing portrait of a place and its people. Contributors include poets already synonymous with the city — Swift, Yeats, Joyce, Beckett, Clarke and Kavanagh among them — as well as a host of others, including Kinsella, Heaney, Boland, Bolger and Meehan, who have made some part of it their own. (See complete list of contents below)

Street singers and balladeers rub shoulders with haiku and performance poets in an anthology that has its heart set on the very streets we live and work and play on. Groundbreaking in its reach, celebratory in its outlook, If Ever You Go is a record of the connections and epiphanies, the missed chances and last buses that knit all of the streets outside our doors into a map of a city where poetry truly matters.

“If Ever You Go is one of the best publishing ideas in decades and a particular delight for those whose souls, for better or worse, are rooted in the city and its past.” — Dublin Review of Books

Special Collector’s Edition (limited to 50 copies only)
A Special Collector’s Edition of this title is also available. Casebound, on munken pure paper, thread sewn, with ribbons, Wibalin endpapers and binding, the edition is limited to 50 numbered copies only, signed by both of the editors. An ideal gift or collector’s item, there are a very small number still available. Please contact the press to enquire.


The following is the complete list of poets and poems included in the book:

1. LIFFEYSIDE

from The Mourning Muse of Thestylis — Lodowick Bryskett / 3
Liffeytown — Eavan Boland / 3
from Stella at Wood Park … — Jonathan Swift / 4
Belts — Rudyard Kipling / 5
Liffey Bridge — Oliver St John Gogarty / 7
Dublin — Louis MacNeice / 7
In the City — Rhoda Coghill / 9
Faoileán Drochmhúinte / Ill-mannered Seagull — Máirtín Ó Direáin / 10
Dickey and the Yeomen — Michael J Moran (Zozimus) / 11
Isolde’s Tower, Essex Quay — Moya Cannon / 12
Down by the Liffeyside — Peadar Kearney / 13
Wood Quay — Pádraig J Daly / 14
Liffeyside Bookbarrow — Michael Smith / 15
A Chalk Venus on Eden Quay — Daniel Tobin / 15
Liffey Bridge — Denis Devlin / 16
Ormond Quay — Tomas Venclova / 18
from The Return — John Francis O’Donnell / 19
Children — Pat Boran / 20
The Twang Man — Anonymous / 21
A Closing Scene — Gerard Smyth / 22
Dublin Jack of All Trades — Anonymous / 23
House on Usher’s Island — Gerard Smyth / 24
Aston Quay: January 2008 — Macdara Woods / 25
Haiku — Anatoly Kudryavitsky / 26
Ha’penny Bridge — Pat Boran / 26
Perversion at the Winding Stair Bookshop & Café — Alan Jude Moore / 27
Lannaigh Faoi Dhroichead Uí Chonaill /
Mullet Under O’Connell Bridge — Gabriel Rosenstock / 27
After Reading J. T. Gilbert’s ‘History of Dublin’ — Denis Florence MacCarthy / 29
New Liberty Hall — Austin Clarke / 29
On First Looking Onto the Samuel Beckett Bridge — Tony Curtis / 30
Liffey Swim — Jessica Traynor / 32

2. NORTHSIDE

Easter 1916 — William Butler Yeats / 35
Imperial Measure — Vona Groarke / 37
O’Connell Street — Francis Ledwidge / 39
Statue — Paddy Bushe / 40
Dream Song 321— John Berryman / 40
Fód an Imris: Ard Oifig an Phoist 1986 / Trouble Spot: General Post Office 1986 — Máire Mhac an tSaoi / 41
Nelson’s Pillar — Richard Murphy / 44
Post Colonial — Willa Murphy / 44
Dublin Honeymoon — Frank Ormsby / 46
Plane — Vona Groarke / 46
Sráid an Amhrais / Disillusion Street — Michael Davitt / 47
Dublin — Thomas McCarthy / 48
Dublin Spire — Dave Lordan / 48
The Spire (10 Years On) — Pat Boran / 50
William Butler Yeats, in Old Age, Meets Maud Gonne
MacBride in O’Connell Street — Evangeline Paterson / 51
The Volta — John O’Donnell / 52
The Uniform — Gerry McDonnell / 53
Searmanas na Feola / Rites of the Flesh — Biddy Jenkinson / 53
City Dweller — Christy Brown / 55
Love Letter to My Henry St. Dealer — Keith Payne / 56
On Hearing of the Death of Gerald Davis — Fred Johnston / 57
Flute-fixing in McNeill’s of Capel Street — Nessa O’Mahony / 58
Parnell Street — Michael O’Loughlin / 59
In North Great George’s Street — Seumas O’Sullivan / 61
At the Gate Theatre — Derek Mahon / 61
Municipal Gallery Revisited — William Butler Yeats / 62
Francis Bacon at the Hugh Lane Gallery — David Butler / 65
Matt Talbot, 1856–1925 — Dermot Bolger / 66
In Memory of Those Murdered in the Dublin Massacre, May 1974 — Paul Durcan / 67
from The Week-end of Dermot and Grace — Eugene R. Watters / 68
Remembrance Day, Sean McDermott St. — Hugh O’Donnell / 69
Dicey Riley — Anonymous / 69
Buying Winkles — Paula Meehan / 70
Dublin Town — Damien Dempsey / 71
Oíche / Night — Cathal Ó Searcaigh / 72
Nelson Street — Seumas O’Sullivan / 74
Charleville Mall Sestina — Michael Hartnett / 75
The Piper’s Club — Ulick O’Connor / 76
Summerhill Moon — Jessica Traynor / 77
Dublin Girl, Mountjoy Jail, 1984 — Dermot Bolger / 78
Condemned — James J McAuley / 79
Temple Street Children’s Hospital — Dermot Bolger / 80
Eccles Street, Bloomsday 1982 — Harry Clifton / 81
Daily Bread — Philip Casey / 83
North Brunswick Street Lullaby — John McAuliffe / 83
The Early Houses — Harry Clifton / 84
The Dead and the Undead of St Michan’s — John F Deane / 85
Smithfield Saturday — Nessa O’Mahony / 85
Lines Written on the Burying-Ground of Arbour Hill … — Robert Emmet / 86
The Parkgate Book of the Dead — Aidan Murphy / 88
Ode to the Phoenix Park — Karl Parkinson / 89
Epigram on the New Magazine Fort in Phoenix Park — Jonathan Swift / 90
Magazine Hill — Harry Clifton / 90
from At the Polo-Ground — Samuel Ferguson / 91
The Zoological Gardens — Anonymous / 93
Beacons at Bealtaine — Seamus Heaney / 94
Wellington Testimonial — Richard Murphy / 94
Making Love Outside Áras an Uachtaráin — Paul Durcan / 95
Daisy Chain — Noel Duffy / 96
Tilly — James Joyce / 97
1941 (North Strand) — Alan Jude Moore / 98
Elegy for Donal McCann — Betty Thompson / 98
Croke Park — Theo Dorgan / 99
Herself and Himself — Brendan Kennelly / 100
East Road, East Wall — Macdara Woods / 100
Fairview Park: 6 a.m. — Michael Hartnett / 104
Cycling to Marino — Mairéad Byrne / 105
Stardust Sequence — Dermot Bolger / 107
The Battle of Clontarf: Address of Brian to his Army — William Kenealy / 109
Dublin Bay — Eithne Strong / 109
Kiss — Maurice Scully / 110
from Lament for the Bull Island — Kevin Faller / 111
Touchdown — Pat Boran / 112
Drumcondra Bridge — Dermot Bolger / 113
1968 — Maurice Scully / 113
Cross Guns Bridge — Valentin Iremonger / 114
Leinster Street — Dermot Bolger / 115
The Botanic Gardens — Jean O’Brien / 116
Holotropic Botanicus —Dermot Bolger / 116
First Poem — Brian Lynch / 117
Glasnevin Cemetery — Michael O’Loughlin / 118
Elvis in Glasnevin — Brian Lynch / 120
Glasnevin North — Alan Moore / 120
Other People’s Grief — Dermot Bolger / 121
The Song of Dermot and the Earl — Anonymous / 122
Motorway Daffodils — Máiríde Woods / 122
Finglas, 1979 — Dermot Bolger / 123
Stony, Grey, Soiled — Colm Keegan / 124
The Smock Race at Finglas — James Ward / 125
My Father Perceived as a Vision of St Francis — Paula Meehan / 125
Fingal Driving Range — Dermot Bolger / 127
‘A Man is Only as Good’ — Pat Boran / 127
Grange Abbey, Donaghmede — Catherine Ann Cullen / 128
Station Road, Sutton — Pat Boran / 129
Moladh Bhinn Éadair / In Praise of Howth Head — Anonymous / 129
Ar Thrá Bhinn Éadair / On the Strand of Howth — Pádraig Pearse / 131
Beautiful Lofty Things — William Butler Yeats / 135
Seo Anois Linn / Here We Go Now — Liam Ó Muirthile / 135
Haute Couture — Katherine Duffy / 137
The Baily Lighthouse — Dermot Bolger / 138
Feltrim Hill — Patrick MacDonogh / 138
Vigil — Theo Dorgan / 139
High Tide at Malahide — Oliver St John Gogarty / 140
Hedgehog — Enda Coyle-Greene / 140
Place Names — Pat Boran / 142
You’ve been this way before — Enda Coyle-Greene / 143

3. SOUTHSIDE

Bewley’s coarse brown bread (unsliced) — Brendan Kennelly / 147
Bewley’s Oriental Café, Westmoreland Street — Paul Durcan / 148
Gerard Depardieu in Eustace Street — Betty Thompson / 149
Dublin, You’re a Bitch — John McNamee / 150
Hawkins Street — Enda Coyle-Greene / 151
Trinity New Library — Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin / 152
Visiting The Book of Kells in the Trinity College Library — Rosemary Canavan / 153
The Long Room Gallery — Julie O’Callaghan / 153
Molly Malone (Cockles and Mussels — James Yorkston / 154
Molly Malone — Paula Meehan / 155
To the Pen Shop — Thomas Kinsella / 156
Morning on Grafton Street — Micheal O’Siadhail / 158
Summer in Dublin — Liam Reilly / 159
Mother and Daughter in Bewley’s Café — Anne Haverty / 160
Grafton Street / Grafton Street — Pádraig Ó Snodaigh / 161
Dublin — Phil Lynott / 162
The List (A Letter to Phil Lynott) — Jordi Pujol Nadal / 163
A Neary’s Afternoon — James Liddy / 164
Going to the Gaiety — Sheila O’Hagan / 165
‘shiver in your tenement’ — Derek Mahon / 166
St Teresa’s—Clarendon Street — Ted McNulty / 167
Gulliver in Dublin — Gerald Mangan / 168
Dublin in July — Ben Howard / 170
A Photograph of Fade Street, Dublin, 1878 — Mark Granier / 170
The Beau Walk of St Stephen’s Green — Thomas Newburgh / 171
The Death in Dublin by Fire of Six Loreto Nuns — John McNamee / 172
At the Shelbourne — Derek Mahon / 173
Hopkins in Newman House — Sheila O’Hagan / 174
The Dolls Museum in Dublin — Eavan Boland / 175
Three Paintings of York Street — Paula Meehan / 177
Machines — Pat Boran / 179
The National Museum of Ireland — Sorley MacLean / 180
In a Dublin Museum — Sheila Wingfield / 182
Frost Moving — Gerard Fanning / 183
French Exam, Alliance Française — Gréagóir Ó Dúill / 183
The Natural History Museum — Padraig Rooney / 184
A Child’s Map of Dublin — Paula Meehan / 185
If Ever You Go to Dublin Town — Patrick Kavanagh / 187
Sketch of a Dubliner — John Sheahan / 189
Baggot Street Deserta — Thomas Kinsella / 190
Merrion Square: A Descriptive Poem — Maurice Craig / 193
The Washing of Feet — Pat Boran / 195
The National Gallery Restaurant — Paul Durcan / 196
Merrion House Sestina — Pat Boran / 196
Westland Row — Thomas Kinsella / 198
Holles Street — Mairéad Byrne / 198
from Home — Winifred M. Letts / 200
The Impact — Leeanne Quinn / 201
A Reason for Walking — Pat Boran / 202
From Mount Street Bridge — Mark Granier / 203
Waiting in the Eye and Ear Hospital on Christmas Eve — Stephen Kennedy / 203
Trees that Lead to You — Enda Wyley / 204
from The Undergraduate — Maurice Harmon / 205
Ely Place — Thomas Kinsella / 206
Herbert Street Revisited — John Montague / 208
Dublin, Dublin — John F Deane / 210
You never saw a bed-end in a Protestant fence — Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin / 210
The Huguenot Graveyard at the Heart of the City — Eavan Boland / 211
Camden St. — Tom Mathews / 213
Mrs. Katherine Dunne, Street Trader, Camden Street, Dublin, Died March 1983 — Leland Bardwell / 213
Construction — Trevor Joyce / 214
Meeting at the Chester Beatty — Catherine Ann Cullen / 215
Essex Street — Peter Sirr / 217
The Ring — Ted McNulty / 218
In The Brazen Head — Gerard Smyth / 219
The Messiah — John Ennis / 219
All That is Left — Gerard Smyth / 221
from Sonnets to James Clarence Mangan — David Wheatley / 222
Viking Dublin: Trial Pieces — Seamus Heaney / 223
Clearing a Space — Brendan Kennelly / 226
Dublin City (aka The Spanish Lady) — Anonymous / 227
A Son! A Son! — Harry Clifton / 229
Madly Singing in the City — Peter Sirr / 230
Eyrie, Christ Church Place — Clairr O’Connor / 231
The View from St Augustine Street — Gerard Smyth / 232
The Fall — Fergus Allen / 233
The Hot Bread of St Catherine’s — Gerard Smyth / 235
Scene with Lights: Thomas Street — Pádraig J. Daly / 235
Vicar Street Flats — Pádraig J. Daly / 236
Dick King — Thomas Kinsella / 236
Golden Lane — Gerard Smyth / 238
Long Lane — Michael Smith / 239
Notebook Shop — Enda Wyley / 239
Houses off Francis Street — Pádraig J. Daly / 240
The Old Jockey — FR Higgins / 241
The Song of Zozimus — Michael J Moran (Zozimus) / 241
Night Walk — Paula Meehan / 242
Walls: John’s Lane 1978 — Pádraig J Daly / 243
Street Games — Austin Clarke / 244
Peter Street — Peter Sirr / 244
Burial of an Irish President — Austin Clarke / 245
Sráid na gCaorach — Peter Sirr / 246
Clanbrassil Street — Joseph Woods / 247
Heytesbury Lane — John Boland / 248
A Carol for Clare — Gerard Fanning / 249
Pride of Pimlico — Arthur Griffith / 249
A Parable of Pimlico — Brendan Kennelly / 250
The Jewish Museum in Portobello — Seán Dunne / 251
On the Crest of the Bridge at Portobello — Pearse Hutchinson / 252
Enueg I — Samuel Beckett / 253
Madman. Twilight. Portobello Bridge — Tom Mathews / 255
Black Ball Gown — Eileen Casey / 255
Little Back Streets of Dublin — Liam Ryan / 257
A Writer’s Farewell — Francis Stuart / 258
Islandbridge — Gerard Smyth / 259
from Mnemosyne Lay in Dust — Austin Clarke / 260
The Hunt — Peter Sirr / 260
Kilmainham Gaol, Dublin, Easter 1991 — Theo Dorgan / 262
Rehearsal for a Presidential Salute at the Irish Museum of Modern Art (IMMA) … — Hugh O’Donnell / 263
Bully’s Acre — Enda Wyley / 264
Inchicore, Early Autumn, 1986 — Philip Casey / 265
from Inchicore Haiku —Michael Hartnett / 266
The House on Jamestown Road — Neil Donnelly / 267
38 Phoenix Street — Thomas Kinsella / 268
Paper Mill Heartland — Paul Murray / 270
Procession — Kevin Byrne / 270
Opening the Door — Robert Greacen / 272
Dart Journey — Paddy Glavin / 273
An Evening in Booterstown — Gerard Fanning / 274
Booterstown — Frank McGuinness / 274
He tells me I have a strange relationship — Ailbhe Darcy / 276
The Humours of Donnybrook Fair — Anonymous / 277
Dublin 4 — Seamus Heaney / 279
Lines Written on a Seat on the Grand Canal, Dublin — Patrick Kavanagh / 279
In Vavasour Square — Brian Lynch / 279
Marlborough Road — Enda Wyley / 280
Morehampton Road — Frank McGuinness / 282
Begin — Brendan Kennelly / 283
On Raglan Road — Patrick Kavanagh / 284
Raglan Lane — Brendan Kennelly / 285
Ringsend — Mark Granier / 286
Ringsend — Oliver St John Gogarty / 287
Haiku — Anatoly Kudryavitsky / 288
The Ringsend Ferry — James J McAuley / 288
Gas Light & Coke — Fergus Allen / 289
At the Irishtown Dump — John Ennis / 290
Scything Nettles in Churchyards — Francis Devine / 292
The Shellybanks — Rory Brennan / 293
The Waxies Dargle— Anonymous / 295
Sketch from the Great Bull Wall — Sebastian Barry / 296
from The End of the Modern World— Anthony Cronin / 297
Sandymount Now — Valentin Iremonger / 298
When the Dust Settles — Catherine Phil MacCarthy / 298
The Strand — Seamus Heaney / 299
Dumhach Thrá / Sandymount — Marcus Mac Conghail / 299
Doctors, Daughters — Mary O’Donnell / 300
The Stillorgan Road — Frank McGuinness / 301
Refusals — Pearse Hutchinson / 302
Shades of Ranelagh: 1984 — Macdara Woods / 303
47 Sandford Road — Peggy O’Brien / 304
Cinéma Vérité — Patrick Deeley / 306
The Leinster Road — John Boland / 307
A Short Walk — Peter Sirr / 308
Flatland — Dennis O’Driscoll / 309
‘One Night I’ — Tom Mathews / 310
An Ghrian i Ráth Maonais / The Sun in Rathmines — Michael Davitt / 310
Wet Morning, Clareville Road — Eamon Grennan / 311
The Dartry Dye Works — Fergus Allen / 314
Walking in Yellow Leaves — Hugh McFadden / 316
To the Oaks of Glencree — John Millington Synge / 317
Casimir Road — Alan Moore / 318
When I Think of You — Hugh McFadden / 320
Landmarks — Basil Payne / 320
Local Nightlight — Hugh McFadden / 321
Waking — Hugh Maxton / 321
Milltown Road — Derry Jeffares / 322
from Clonskeagh Haiku — Iggy McGovern / 323
Mo Thaibhse / My Ghost — Máirtín Ó Direáin / 324
Language Lessons in a Churchtown Chipper — Nessa O’Mahony / 325
Dublin Tramcars — Thomas McDonagh / 326
Transformations — George William Russell (‘AE’) / 327
Rathgar Pastoral — Patrick Deeley / 327
Midnight in Templeogue — Austin Clarke / 328
The Quaker Graveyard in Blackrock — Gerard Smyth / 329
Willow Park Winter — James McCabe / 329
One Who Was Not Invited to the Opening of the Joyce Tower Complains Bitterly — John Jordan / 331
Tai Chi at Sandycove — Gerald Dawe / 332
Haiku — Anatoly Kurdyavitsky / 332
Dip — Katie Donovan / 332
Deansgrange Cemetery — Jean O’Brien / 333
Dublin Roads — Padraic Colum / 334
The New Luas Bridge in Dundrum — Iggy McGovern / 337
The View from Dundrum — Iggy McGovern / 337
Radharc Ó Chában tSíle / The View from Cabinteely — Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill / 338
Bluebell — Patrick Deeley / 339
Thanksgiving — Katharine Tynan / 341
Clondalkin Concrete — Leland Bardwell / 341
Jesus of Clondalkin — Dermot Bolger / 342
In Memory of Veronica Guerin — Billy Ramsell / 343
Common Ground — Declan Collinge / 344
The Globe on Captain’s Road — Terri Murray / 345
Father and Son 1966 — Declan Collinge / 346
Funeral Games — Patrick Glavin / 347
Them’s Your Mammy’s Pills — Leland Bardwell / 348
Warriors — Eileen Casey / 350
The Bingo Bus — Leland Bardwell / 351
In the Spring of My Forty-First Year — Paul Perry / 353