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Across the moorlandflowing with bog cottonas white as snow,a wee black hooseempty topples,the spinning wheelhas froze and rustand crottle grows the chairwhere mammy, who nursedthe fair colleen,lies unforgotton. The scream: “níl aon ní úr faoin spéirach leis imeacht aimsirefearr is agamsa atá a fhiosthafearr is agamsa atá a fhios agus an bhuil a fhios agat … Read more

The Gentleman of the River has passed beyond the brackish waterin to the great green-bluing unknown heavenly depthsbeyond the sand banks of knowing and yon glistening rocks of faithwhere the wild north sea of baying sea horses and moon-swellcry like a banshee to the fishers’ wrecks The Voice calls “walk upon the water of life”“be … Read more