[Patrick Crotty - Modern Irish Poetry - An Anthology Ebookno.

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Patrick Crotty was born in Fcrmoy, County Cork, in 1952 and educated at University College Cork and the University of Stirling. He is a senior lecturer in English and Welsh Studies at Trinity College, Carmarthen. He frequently contributes articles and reviews on Irish and Scottish literature to a wide range of newspapers and journals, including the Times Literary Supplement, the Irish Times and the Irish Review. He is currently completing a study of Hugh Mac Diarmid.

MODERN IRISH POETRY

An Anthology
Edited PATRICK by CROTTY

C-fy

I I II Ml A( KS I'API

Ill I I A M

In

memory of Bevan

Tudor

1933-1994

First p u b l i s h e d in 1995 by T h e Blackstaff Press L i m i t e d 3 G a l w a y Park, D u n d o n a l d , Belfast B T 1 6 O A N , N o r t h e r n Ireland w i t h t h e assistance o f T h e Arts C o u n c i l o f N o r t h e r n Ireland S e l e c t i o n , I n t r o d u c t i o n a n d N o t e s , Patrick C r o t t y , 1995 All rights r e s e r v e d T h e acknowledgements on pp. 4 2 3 - 8 constitute an extension o f this c o p y r i g h t page Typeset by Paragon Typesetters, Quecnsferry, C l w y d P r i n t e d in Ireland by C o l o u r B o o k s Limited A O P c a t a l o g u e r e c o r d lor t h i s b o o k is available from t h e llntisli I ibrary ISUN <>-HSM<> S (.l .*

C O N T E N T S

INTRODUCTION THOMAS M A C G R E E V Y (1893-1967) H o m a g e to H i e r o n y n i u s Bosch Recessional AUSTIN CLARKE (1896-1974) T h e Lost Heifer from T h e Y o u n g W o m a n of Beare T h e Planter's D a u g h t e r Celibacy Martha Blake T h e Straying Student Penal Law St Christopher Early Unfinished Sketch Martha Blake at Fifty-one /rwwTiresias, II PATRICK KAVANAGH (1904-1967) To the M a n After the H a r r o w Stony Grey Soil from T h e Great H u n g e r : I, from III, XIV T h e Twelfth of July Tarry Flynn A Christmas C h i l d h o o d Father Mat Elegy for J i m Larkin Epic Innocence Kerr's Ass T h e Hospital PADRAIC FALLON (1905-1974) A Flask of Brandy Kiltartan Legend Yeats at Athenry Perhaps liom Three Houses: I G u r t e e n A Mil of Brass BRIAN ( ()1 I I Y (1905 1995) from I >eath of I Icktor: 6 Itoin I in W l u t foi W h o m U n w a n t e d : I, 8

1 9 9 11 13 13 14 16 17 18 20 21 21 21 22 27 31 31 32 33 39 39 40 42 46 47 48 48 49 50 50 51 52 55 57 59 59 60

SAMUEL BECKETT (1906-1989) Cascando my way is in the sand flowing what w o u l d I do w i t h o u t this w o r l d faceless incurious from W o r d s and Music Roundelay J O l IN IIEWITT (1907-1987) from Freehold: from II T h e Lonely Heart T h e Ram's H o r n * The Colony Substance and Shadow An Irishman in C o v e n t r y A Local Poet L O U I S MACNEICE (1907-1963) Mayfly Snow from A u t u m n Journal: XVI M e e t i n g Point Autobiography T h e Libertine W e s t e r n Landscape from A u t u m n Sequel: from C a n t o XX from A H a n d of Snapshots: T h e O n c e - i n - P a s s i n g H o u s e on a Cliff Soap Suds T h e Suicide Star-gazer DENIS DEVLIN (1908-1959) A n k ' h o r Vat Little Elegy from M e m o i r s of a T u r c o m a n D i p l o m a t : Oteli Asia Palas, Inc. R e n e w a l by her E l e m e n t W.R. RODGERS (1909-1969) Snow Lent The Net Stormy Night MIRTN DIREIN (1910-1988) D e i r e a d h R trans. Era's E n d by Patrick C r o t t y C u i m h n e an Domhnaigh trans. M e m o r y of Sunday by Patrick Crotty

62 62 63 64 64 65 66 66 68 69 73 73 74 76 77 78 78 82 83 84 85 88 91 92 92 93 94 95 95 96 98 99 101 101 103 104 105 107 108 109 108 109

Cranna Foirtil trans. Strong Beams by Patrick C r o t t y SEN RORDIN (1917-1977) Adhlacadh Mo M h t h a r trans. My M o t h e r ' s Burial by Patrick C r o t t y Malairt trans. Switch by Patrick C r o t t y C n o c Meller trans. M o u n t Melleray by Patrick C r o t t y Siollabadh trans. Syllabling by Patrick C r o t t y Claustrophobia trans. Claustrophobia by Patrick C r o t t y Reo trans. Frozen Stiff by Patrick C r o t t y Fiabhras trans. Fever by Patrick C r o t t y VALENTIN IREMONGER (1918-1991) This H o u r e H e r Vigill Clear V i e w in S u m m e r Icarus FERGUS ALLEN (b. 1921) Elegy for Faustina T h e Fall MIRE MHAC AN T S A O I (b. 1922) Caoineadh trans. Lament by Patrick C r o t t y C e a t h r i n t M h i r c N gin trans. Mary H o g a n ' s Quatrains by Patrick C r o t t y PEARSE H U T C H I N S O N (b. 1927) Malaga Gaeltacht Sometimes Feel
RI< :i IAR1) M U R P H Y (h. 1927)

110 111 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 124 125 124 125 126 127 126 127 130 130 131 132 134 134 135 137 138 139 138 139 146 146 147 148
149

Sailing to an Island T h e Poet on the Island from T h e liattlc of Aughrim: Casement's Funeral Seals at I ligh Island Stoinipetrel M o r n i n g Call from T h e Price ol S t o n e : Roof-tree, C o n v e n i e n c e , Kylcmorc ( astir, Nairn. il S o n

150 152 153 154 155 156 I 5i>

T H O M A S KINSELLA (b. 1928) Chrysalides from N o t e s from the Land of the Dead: H e n W o m a n , Ancestor, T e a r from O n e : 38 P h o e n i x Street, His Father's H a n d s from Anniversaries: 1956 * from T h e Messenger from O u t of Ireland: H a r m o n i e s from O n e Fond Embrace J O H N M O N T A G U E (b. 1929) ' Like D o l m e n s R o u n d My C h i l d h o o d , the O l d People The Trout A D r i n k of Milk from A C h o s e n Light: I 11 rue Daguerre Family C o n f e r e n c e T h e Same Gesture ' Last J o u r n e y Small Secrets Dowager from T h e Cave of N i g h t : III Cave H e r b e r t Street Revisited JAMES SIMMONS (b. 1933) O n e of the Boys W e s t Strand Visions F r o m the Irish BRENDAN KENNELLY (b. 1936) from C r o m w e l l : T h r e e Tides, Vintage SEAMUS HEANEY (b. 1939) C h u r n i n g Day Broagh T h e Tollund Man from Mossbawn: T w o P o e m s in Dedication: I Sunlight Funeral Rites Casualty Badgers T h e Harvest B o w T h e Birthplace from S w e e n e y Redivivus: T h e Cleric F r o m the Frontier of W r i t i n g From the C a n t o n of Expectation W h e e l s within W h e e l s from Lightenings: v i n , ix Keeping G o i n g

159 160 H>(> 167 172 173 174 174 178 179 180 181 182 183 183 184 185 187 188 188 191 191 192 193 194 194 197 198 199 199 201 202 205 208 209 210 211 212 213 215 216 217

MICHAEL LONGLEY (b. 1939) In M e m o r i a m Caravan Wounds Ghost T o w n M a n Lying on a Wall Wreaths: T h e Civil Servant, T h e Greengrocer, T h e Linen W o r k e r s from M a y o M o n o l o g u e s : Self-heal T h e Linen Industry Between Hovers H o m e r i c P o e m s : Laertes, Argos, T h e Butchers, Phemios & M e d o n River & Fountain MICHAEL H A R T N E T T (b. 1941) Bread I have exhausted the delighted range . . . For My G r a n d m o t h e r , Bridget Halpin from A Farewell to English: I Lament for T a d g h C r o n i n ' s C h i l d r e n T h e M a n w h o W r o t e Yeats, the M a n w h o W r o t e Mozart Sneachta Gealai '77 trans. M o o n s n o w '77 by Michael H a r t n e t t EAMON G R E N N A N (b. 1941) Totem Four D e e r Breaking Points DEREK M A H O N (b. 1941) A D y i n g Art Ecclesiastes An Image from Beckett Lives T h e S n o w Party A Refusal to M o u r n \ A Disused Shed in C o . W e x f o r d ('.ourtyards in Delft Rathlin I ractatus
1

220 220 222 223 224 225 225 227 227 228 229 231 235 236 236 237 237 238 239 246 247 248 248 249 250 253 253 254 254 256 258 259 261 263 264 265
266

L I L I A N N CHUILLEANIN (b. 1942)

The Second Voyage I >eaths ami Engines

The I n l n i m . m t

266 267
268

T h e Real T h i n g Saint Margarcl ol (lortona

269 270

EAVAN BOLAND (b. 1944) Listen. This Is the Noise of M y t h Fond Memory T h e Black Lace Fan My M o t h e r Gave Me T h e Latin Lesson M i d n i g h t Flowers Anna Liffey PAUL D U R C A N (b. 1944) T h e H a t Factory T u l l y n o e : T e t e - a - T c t e in the Parish Priest's Parlour T h e Haulier's Wife Meets Jesus on the Road N e a r M o o n e A r o u n d the C o r n e r from Francis Bacon from Six N u n s Die in C o n v e n t Inferno: I T h e Late Mr Charles Lynch Digresses T h e Levite and His C o n c u b i n e at Gibeah BERNARD O ' D O N O G H U E (b. 1945) A N u n Takes the Veil T h e Weakness FRANK ORMSBY (b. 1947) Passing the C r e m a t o r i u m Home from A Paris H o n e y m o o n : L'Orangerie CI ARAN CARSON Dresden Cocktails The Mouth Hamlet O v i d : Metamorphoses, V, 5 2 9 - 5 5 0 Bagpipe Music (b. 1948)

272 272 275 276 277 278 279 286 286 289 290 295 297 301 301 304 304 305 306 306 306 307 308 308 313 313 314 317 317 321 321 322 322 323 324 324 327 328 329 330 330 331

T O M PAULIN (b. 1949) Pot Burial W h e r e Art Is a Midwife , Desertmartin Off the Back of a Lorry *A W r i t t e n Answer T h e Lonely T o w e r BIDDY J E N K I N S O N (b. 1949) Citheadh trans. Spray by Alex O s b o r n e i MEDBH M c G U C K I A N (b. 1950) T h e Seed-picture Gateposts

T h e Flower Master T h e Sitting Marconi's C o t t a g e from Porcelain Bells: 3 Speaking into the Candles PAUL M U L D O O N (b. 1951) L u n c h with P a n c h o Villa Cuba Anseo Gathering M u s h r o o m s T h e M o r e a M a n Has the M o r e a M a n Wants S o m e t h i n g Else Cauliflowers NUALA N D H O M H N A I L L (b. 1952) Scala trans. Annunciations by Michael H a r t n e t t Far Suaithinseach trans. Miraculous Grass by Seamus H e a n e y An B h b g Bhriste trans. T h e B r o k e n Doll 6 y J o h n M o n t a g u e Filte Bhal na Sionna d o n Iasc trans. T h e S h a n n o n Estuary W e l c o m e s the Fish by Patrick C r o t t y An Bhean Mhdhlis trans. T h e Unfaithful Wife by Paul M u l d o o n Ceist na T e a n g a n trans. T h e Language Issue by Paul M u l d o o n Caitlin trans. C a t h l e e n by Paul M u l d o o n M A T T H E W SWEENEY (b. 1952) To the Building T r a d e T u b e Ride to Martha's MAURICE RIORDAN (b. 1953) Milk Time Out A W o r d from the Loki
i i I O M A S M C C A R T H Y (b. 1 9 5 4 )

332 332 333 334 337 338 339 340 341 343 361 362 365 366 367 366 367 370 371 372 373 372 373 376 377 378 379 382 382 383 384 384 385 387
390

State Funeral Mr N a b o k o v ' s M e m o r y Persephone, 1978 T h e Standing Trains

I A N I >l II IK (I.

390 391 392 393 395 v>s 396

1954) Li 11, II I.nth A ' I (Ihaneuon Reforms Agraria

PAULA M E E H A N (b. 1955) T h e Pattern Child Burial Laburnum SEAN D U N N E (1956-1995) from Sydney Place: Beans, T h e M o b i l e , Railings, T h e D e a d Pianist, T h e Bus Station, T h e Poet Upstairs, T e a , T h e Lost Wife, T h e O l d School, T h e N i g h t Sky CATHAL SEARCAIGH (b. 1956) B Bhradach trans. A R u n a w a y C o w by Patrick C r o t t y Na Popa Crafige trans. T h e Clay Pipes by Seamus H e a n e y Caoineadh trans. L a m e n t by Seamus H e a n e y PETER SIRR (b. 1960) A F e w Helpful Hints PETER MCDONALD (b. 1962) Sunday in Great T e w Peacetime MARTIN M O O N E Y (b. 1964) Anna A k h m a t o v a ' s Funeral ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS INDEX OF POETS A N D TRANSLATORS INDEX OF TITLES INDEX OF FIRST LINES

398 398 401 402 404

404 407 408 409 408 409 412 413 414 414 416 416 419 421 421 423 429 430 433

I N T R O D U C T I O N

So many strands of poetry in Ireland since the 1920s define themselves against the exhilarating, overbearing example of W . B . Yeats that it might be said that Irish writers make poetry less out of their quarrel with t h e m selves than out of their quarrel with the founder of the Literary Revival. T h e poets included in this anthology reject the o t h e r - w o r l d l y pull of the Celtic Twilight, and distrusr the plangent, resonant tones Yeats b r o u g h t to even his most r o o t e d and earthy themes. James Joyce's preference for the everyday and c o n t e m p o r a r y over the legendary that first, decisive revision of the Revival aesthetic - is endorsed by all o f t h e m . Yet Austin Clarke, J o h n H e w i t t , Richard M u r p h y , T h o m a s Kinsella, J o h n M o n t a g u e , Seamus H e a n e y , Michael Hartnett, Eavan Boland and T o m Paulin extend a characteristically Yeatsian and Revivalist practice insofar as they approach the present through a heroising reading of the past (the Celtic R o m a n e s q u e period in Clarke, pre-history in Kinsella, radical late-eighteenth-century Ulster in Paulin, and so on). Indeed the very lack of a historical dimension in the w o r k of those poets w h o take a stand on the primacy of the h e r e - a n d - n o w - Patrick Kavanagh, Brian Coffey, Samuel Beckett, Louis MacNeice, Paul Durcan and M e d b h M c G u c k i a n - offers the indirect h o m a g e of counterstatenient to the Literary Revival's premiss that only a recovery of the past can effect liberation in the present. T h e realism of Kavanagh's TJie Great I lunger is to be understood, in part at least, as a response to the A b b e y Theatre's pastoralisation of peasant life. Similarly, though M a c N e i c e had little use for Yeats's c o n c e p t of a specifically Irish tradition in English poetry, he continually relocated himself in relation to the older writer (his The Poetry of W.B. Yeats, published in 1941, was the first b o o k Icngth study of the poet). It is true, ol course, that anxiety about Yeats's influence has been lelt by poets e v e r y w h e r e in the English-speaking world over the last three quarters of a t cntury Mu< h ol the verse ol subsequent dc< ades
l

has sought to absorb the implications of the modernist high tide of the 1920s, w h e n Yeats's The Tower, T.S. Eliot's Tfie Waste Land, Wallace Stevens's Harmonium, William Carlos Williams's Spring and All, Ezra P o u n d ' s Hugh Selwyn Mauberley and early Cantos, H u g h MacDiarmid's Sangschaw and A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle and H a r t Crane's Wliite Buildings all appeared within a few years of each other. Despite its variety and e n h a n c e d social awareness, the poetry of the thirties and later fails to sustain the energy and innovative flair of those volumes. Even as we approach the end of the century Yeats and Eliot survive along with Stevens, Williams and (to a perhaps diminishing degree) P o u n d as crucial exemplars for anyone wishing to extend the possibilities of English poetic idiom. T h e loss of aesthetic optimism in the post-twenties period is perhaps clearer in retrospect than it was at the time, at least in Britain and the U n i t e d States. In Ireland, h o w e v e r , the sense of anti-climax was i m mediate and acute, for t w o reasons. Firstly, the disproportionate contrib u t i o n of Irish writers to the international modernist m o v e m e n t had a disabling effect on subsequent, less gifted artists, not least because in m a k i n g the matter of Ireland central to their w o r k , Yeats and Joyce had exhausted many local possibilities of subject matter and attitude. (It is no coincidence that Beckett, eventually installed as the third m e m b e r of an Irish modernist triumvirate, elides geographical and historical particulars from his writing.) Secondly, the upsurge in literary activity had b e e n c o n n e c t e d to the political turbulence w h i c h found resolution (of a sort) in the settlement of 1922. F r o m the rise of the H o m e Rule and Land League m o v e m e n t s in the 1870s to the setting up of N o r t h e r n Ireland and the Irish Free State, cultural identities w e r e r e n d e r e d problematic as p o w e r relations with Britain and b e t w e e n the various population groups within Ireland shifted. Cultural m y t h - m a k i n g and self-confrontation in response to rapidly changing needs provided an i m p e t u s for texts as diverse as Standish O ' G r a d y ' s History of Ireland, J . M . Synge's The Playboy of the Western World, and Ulysses. By the time J o y c e ' s novel appeared in 1922 the old Ascendancy class had retreated to t h e margins of Irish life, and cultural as well as political p o w e r had b e g u n to stabilise r o u n d n e w institutions w h i c h reflected the t r i u m p h of t h e Gaelic/Catholic sect in the South and its Scots-Irish/Protestant c o u n t e r p a r t in the N o r t h . T h e r e is a feeling of aftermath in the w o r k of Clarke, Kavanagh and H e w i t t , a taking stock as the dust of revolution settles. On both sides of t h e b o r d e r the years 1922 to 1960 mark a period of retrenchment and m o r e or less institutionalised Philistinism. In the South contemporary

literature was all b u t o u t l a w e d by the Censorship of Publications Act (1929). Yeats's success in cultivating audiences at h o m e and abroad eluded poets of the next generation w h o chose to live in or write mainly about Ireland. T h e obscurity and near p e n u r y in w h i c h Clarke and Kavanagh spent their lives was o n e c o n s e q u e n c e of this, the b r o k e n trajectory of their careers another. Satire, m o r e than most modes, implies an audience. In a painful paradox, the lack of a domestic public to receive their w o r k helped drive Clarke and Kavanagh to satire, w h i l e the lack of an audience for their satire r e d u c e d m u c h of what might have b e e n forceful cultural and social c o m m e n t a r y to flailing, w o u l d - b e c o m i c doggerel in the case of Kavanagh, and a species of m u t t e r i n g protest, at once over-topical and arcane, in that of Clarke. T h e latter's increasing d e p e n d e n c e on h o m o n y m i c r h y m e and other stylistic eccentricities suggests an almost wilful self-subversion on the part of a writer w h o k n o w s his complaints will go unheard. Louis M a c N e i c e ' s is the only achievement of the period free of a sense of dissipated or misdirected energies, and his w o r k was largely aimed at (and registered by) an audience outside Ireland. T h o u g h Clarke, Kavanagh and Sen O Rordin may equal him in stylistic ingenuity and moral p u r p o s e , M a c N e i c e w r o t e a strikingly greater n u m b e r of successful p o e m s than they did. (This was b r o u g h t h o m e to me d u r i n g the compilation of the present anthology, w h e n shortlists of t w o dozen p o e m s each by Clarke and Kavanagh, and a slightly smaller n u m b e r by O Rordin, rapidly emerged: it took m u c h labour to whittle MacNeice's w o r k d o w n to a shortlist, and t h e n there w e r e well in excess of sixty items on it.) T h e achievement of Clarke and Kavanagh is nonetheless considerable. T h e fonner recuperated the intricate assonantal patterning of Gaelic verse in a recognisably modernist i d i o m - as distinctive in its way as William Empson's or T h e o d o r e Roethke's - and t u r n e d a potentially reactionary regard for the past to the service of a libertarian vision. T h e latter was the first writer to create wholly o u t of the vernacular English of Ireland a poetic voice free of whimsy and folksiness. Irish poets after Kavanagh are at last psychologically and technically sure of the resources of their English m e d i u m : his example can be said to have m a d e possible t h e freedom of address of such colloquially r o o t e d c o n t e m p o r a r y poetries .is Heaney's, Durcan's and M u l d o o n ' s . It was not, h o w e v e r , until the 1950s and the e m e r g e n c e of Richard M u r p h y , T h o m a s Kinsella and J o h n M o n t a g u e - a generation b o r n in the lust decade ol i n d e p e n d e n c e that post-Yeatsian Irish p o e t s began to have professional careers, supported n o w by grants, literary prizes a n d the g r o w i n g institUtionalisation ol poetry on both sides ol tin'

Atlantic. T h e cosmopolitan flavour of their w o r k reflects alike the ending of the neutral South's wartime isolation and the significant periods spent by these authors overseas, w h e t h e r in France, the U n i t e d States or Sn Lanka. Kinsella's b r o o d i n g narratives relate the dislocations of psychic, family and national history to universal perspectives on incoherence and loss, while M o n t a g u e ' s erotic lyrics deploy a taut, u n e m p h a t i c line derived from Williams, K e n n e t h Rexroth and Robert Greeley to challenge the sexual glumness of m i d - c e n t u r y Ireland. T h e i r temptation towards bardic c o m m e n t a r y on the social and e c o n o m i c changes of the Lemass era reveals the confidence of these poets in their audience. In Murphy's The Battle of Aughrim (1968), Kinsella's Nightwalker (1967) and such portions of M o n t a g u e ' s Tlie Rough Field (1972) as had m a d e their appearance by the e n d of the 1960s, history is a nightmare from w h i c h the poetic consciousness has a w o k e n into m o d e r n i t y . For a y o u n g e r generation north of the b o r d e r it was by contrast o n e w h o s e full terrors w e r e about to be disclosed. T h o m a s M a c G r e e v y , w h o s e w o r k opens the present anthology, has been identified as the founder of a 'tradition of Irish m o d e r n i s m ' w h i c h includes his friends Coffey, Beckett and Denis Devlin, along with a n u m b e r of m o r e recent writers not represented here. T h e wish is s o m e times mistaken for the deed in discussion of this strand of Irish poetic effort: t h o u g h these poets p r o d u c e d a n u m b e r of fine individual lyrics, perhaps only Beckett can be said to have succeeded in developing as opposed to merely seeking - n e w forms. Indeed, it might be argued that the modernist injunction to ' m a k e it n e w ' is h o n o u r e d m o r e by Kinsella in pieces like ' H e n W o m a n ' and '38 P h o e n i x Street' - and by such n o r t h e r n poets as M c G u c k i a n and M u l d o o n - than by any of the self-consciously anti-traditional writers associated with MacGreevy. T h e 'Irish modernists' share w i t h the Kinsella/Montague generation an eagerness to a c c o m m o d a t e E u r o p e a n and American influences. Internationalism and nationalism are close companions in Ireland, as they are in Scotland, w h e r e poets from MacDiarmid to K e n n e t h W h i t e have cultivated a cosmopolitan formal lineage to underscore their separateness from an insular English tradition. (Patriotism gets mixed up in the debate about m o d e r n i s m in England, t o o , of course, albeit in the opposite way: a n t i - m o d e r n i s m was for Philip Larkin, Kingsley Amis and others in the 1950s a m o d e of chauvinism, an aesthetic forerunner to the E u r o scepticism of the 1990s.) M a n y of the writers associated with Liam Miller's D o l m e n Press disapproved of what one of the foremost of t h e m , John M o n t a g u e , called the 'limiting British m o d e ' of the T h o m a s I lardy/Edward Thomas/Philip I arkin
axis.

Ii

was

perhaps inevitable that

the appearance towards the end of the 1960s of a group of Belfast-based, L o n d o n - p u b l i s h e d poets w h o displayed a preference for the tight, traditionally derived forms of Larkin and the M o v e m e n t should have been greeted w i t h a measure of suspicion south of the border. Seamus Heaney, Michael Longley and D e r e k M a h o n , h o w e v e r , w e r e n o t offering fifties English poetry at second hand. T h e tonalities of their version o f ' t h e well-made lyric' involve what T e r e n c e B r o w n has called 'a tense astringency' deeply at odds w i t h the genteel weariness of the parent m o d e . R e n e w e d rather than merely b o r r o w e d , that is to say, the forms of n o r t h e r n poetry in the 1960s and early 1970s w e r e m a d e as adequate to the fraught realities of their n e w socio-political context as they had b e e n to the longueurs of suburban England. W i t h their fidelity to local speech patterns, Heaney's verses in any case w e r e from the beginning considerably r e m o v e d from the clipped tones and edges of the M o v e m e n t lyric. Unease about the procedures of his w o r k is so crucial to this poet's sense of artistic responsibility that o n e must be wary of reading t o o m u c h into the m a n n e r of his progress towards m o r e o p e n and varied forms. It can nonetheless be n o t e d that H e a n e y d r o p p e d the regular stanzas of his first t w o books just as his poetry was taking on an explicitly historical character in response to the catastrophic turn of events in N o r t h e r n Ireland. His adoption of an American-style short u n r h y m e d line for Wintering Out (1972) and North (1975) may represent a last - and this time largely coincidental - intersection b e t w e e n Insh nationalist politics and international m o d e m ism. M o r e recent n o r t h e r n writers have engaged as m u c h with transatlantic as w i t h English examples, and have d o n e so in a m a n n e r w h i c h u n d e r m i n e s the old assumptions about the cultural loyalties implicit in procedural choices. Indeed o n e can read back from Ciaran Carson's adaptation of the long line of C.K. Williams, or from Paul M u l d o o n ' s grafting of A m e r i n d i a n legend to the stock of the English sonnet sequence, to see in the orderliness of the 1960s w o r k of Heaney, Longley and M a h o n an early expression of that vigorous, slightly distrustful formalist eclecticism which has for three decades distinguished northern poetry. Regional characteristics are exhibited by the poetry of o t h e r parts of Ireland t o o , of course - not least M u n s t e r , w h e r e the outstanding t w e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y achievement has been in the Irish language, in the work of Sc.in () Rordin and Nuala Ni D h o m h n a i l l , rather than in the English
spoken by

the great majority of the population. T h e fact may

ih.u the province's leading English-medium poet, Michael Hartnett,

'.prut .1 J e t .hie

writing

in.Hilly

in

It i s ] I

be

fuitliei

s\inptoiii.it h

ol

'

the vestigial life of the language in the Munster countryside. T h e Gaelic literary tradition, h o w e v e r , had petered out in misery and doggerel generations before the writers in the present anthology were b o m . Efforts to resuscitate it began to bear fruit only as hopes of reversing or even arresting the decline of the spoken language w e r e b e i n g abandoned. T h e disappointing actuality of i n d e p e n d e n c e b r o k e the link b e t w e e n lyric e n d e a v o u r and aspirant nationalism, allowing for the e m e r g e n c e of a cautious, introspective, characteristically self-reflexive art. T h e m o d e r n i t y of O Rordin and his C o n n a c h t c o n t e m p o r a r y Mirtn O Direin - a matter not only of psychology but of a rhythmic innovation necessarily m o r e fundamental than anything in the A n g l o p h o n e poetry of Ireland - highlights the unbridgeable nature of the gap separating their w o r k from that of Aodhagn O Rathaille and o t h e r poets of the eighteenth century. T h e r e is a measure of continuity with the m o d e s of the past in the poetry of Mire M h a c an tSaoi, b u t it is with amhrin na ndaoine - the songs of the folk - rather than the elaborate art that died with O Rathaille. An even m o r e remarkable receptiveness to the sub-literary, the instinctual and the c o m m u n a l can be found in the verse of Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill. W o m e n have m a d e an outstanding contribution to poetry in Irish, particularly in the c o n t e m p o r a r y period. In English their achievement is perhaps slightly less considerable, though a huge increase in literary activity in line with the rise of the w o m e n ' s m o v e m e n t may p r o v e the prelude to a revolution w h i c h will r e n d e r such a j u d g e m e n t invalid by the turn of the century. As yet, h o w e v e r , recognition that a feminist aesthetic demands n e w forms and cadences has been reflected in the w o r k of few but the m o r e established writers: the poetries of Eilan N Chuilleanin and Eavan Boland have developed in stature and complexity to embrace issues relating to the absence of w o m e n ' s witness from received versions of history, while M e d b h M c G u c k i a n has sought to reconstitute the figurative dynamics of the lyric according to a fluid, non-linear logic. T h e editorial discriminations of the anthology's closing pages - from T h o m a s M c C a r t h y onwards - are necessarily tentative. M o r e verse by y o u n g e r writers is appearing than ever before, b o t h in b o o k form and in a wide range of periodicals. Contemporary Ireland is clearly hospitable to n e w poetry. W h e t h e r it is in any serious sense responsive to it is a n o t h e r matter, h o w e v e r , and there are signs that ease of publication has begun to function as an e n e m y of promise. This may help to explain w h y y o u n g poets appear to be taking longer to mature than .1 de< ade 01 t w o ago (though it < an hardly a< < ounl foi the fa< 1 thai t w o of the

strongest d e b u t collections of the 1990s have c o m e from Fergus Allen and Maurice Riordan, writers in their seventies and forties respectively). Pre-fabricated M u l d o o n e s q u e ironies are the staple of m u c h recent writing from the N o r t h , while, south of the border, p e r f o r m a n c e oriented m o n o l o g u e s which flatter rather than challenge their audience have wide currency. T h e indifferent quality of such w o r k illustrates the dangers of complacency. A n d yet it is true that Ireland continues to m a k e an improbably strong contribution to poetry: many of the poems r e p r o d u c e d here bear comparison w i t h the best written a n y w h e r e in the English-speaking world since the 1920s. W h i l e my focus has b e e n on achievement rather than activity - across the b o o k as a w h o l e and within the individual selections - I have nonetheless sought to highlight the range and variety of m o d e r n Irish verse. This has necessitated the inclusion of works longer than it is customary to represent in anthologies. For reasons of space some of these have had to be subjected to a process of excision and I am particularly grateful to the poets and their representatives w h o granted permission for the resulting cuts. (In no case were these meant as challenges to the integrity of the original text.) T h e w o r d modem in this anthology's title is used in the sense that we speak of m o d e r n Ireland, Ireland since the settlement of 1922. Irish is similarly intended inclusively, as a term capacious e n o u g h to encompass the diversity of cultural identities within the island and to admit the reality of the Irish diaspora in the writing of exiles, expatriates and their offspring. T h e brief critical commentaries w h i c h precede each selection are designed to afford an entry into the poetry: if the m o r e experienced reader takes t h e m as starting points for debate, so m u c h the better.
LLANGAIN, C A R M A R T H E N 31 A U G U S T 1995

T H O M A S

M A C G R E E V Y

Born Tarbert, C o u n t y Kerry, 1893. Served as officer in British A r m y in First W o r l d W a r . A r m y scholarship to Trinity College D u b l i n . Lived L o n d o n , 1 9 2 4 - 6 , Paris, 1 9 2 6 - 3 3 . Lecteur at Ecole N o r m a l e Suprieure, 1926-30. Lectured at National Gallery, L o n d o n , 1 9 3 5 - 4 1 . Chevalier de legion d ' h o n n e u r , 1948, Officier, 1962. D i r e c t o r of the National Gallery of Ireland, 1 9 5 0 - 6 3 . Personally close to Joyce, Beckett and Wallace Stevens. D i e d 1967. In M a c G r e e v y ' s w o r k a modernist poetic serves a strikingly conservative w o r l d - v i e w . Nationalist and Catholic pieties are rarely far from the surface of the taut vers libre meditations from the 1920s w h i c h account for most of his slender output. ' H o m a g e to H i e r o n y m u s Bosch' is an allegory based on the failure of the provost of Trinity College D u b l i n to respond to a request by ex-officer undergraduates to intervene with the authorities on behalf of Kevin Barry, a republican student at University College Dublin captured by the Black and Tans and hanged in 1920. 'Recessional' records a visit to Switzerland in 1925.

H O M A G E T O H I E R O N Y M U S BOSCH A w o m a n w i t h n o face w a l k e d i n t o t h e l i g h t ; A b o y , in a b r o w n - t r e e n o r f o l k suit, Holding on W i t h o u t hands T o h e r s e e m i n g skirt. She stopped, A n d he stopped, A n d I, in terror, stopped, staring. T h e n I s a w a g r o u p o f s h a d o w y figures b e h i n d h e r . It was a wild w e t m o r n i n g But t h e little w o r l d w a s s p i n n i n g o n .

Liplessly, s o m e h o w , s h e a d d r e s s e d it: The book must be opened And the park too. I might have tittered But my teeth chattered A n d I s a w t h a t t h e w o r d s , a s t h e y fell, Lay, wriggling, o n t h e g r o u n d . T h e r e w a s a stir o f w e t w i n d A n d t h e s h a d o w y figures b e g a n t o stir W h e n one I had thought dead F i l m e d s l o w l y o u t o f his g r e a t effigy o n a t o m b n e a r b y A n d t h e y all s h u d d e r e d He b e n t as if to speak to t h e w o m a n B u t t h e n u r s e r y g o v e r n o r flew u p o u t o f t h e well o f Saint Patrick, C o n f i s c a t e d b y his m i s t r e s s , A n d , his h e a d b e n t , S t a r i n g o u t o v e r his s p e c t a c l e s , A n d scratching the gravel furiously, Hissed T h e w o r d s w e n t pingg! l i k e b u l l e t s , U p w a r d s past his s p e c t a c l e s Say nothing, Gasped, B e g a n hysterically, to laugh a n d cry, A n d , w i t h a gesture of i m p o t e n t and half-petulant despair, F i l m e d b a c k i n t o his effigy a g a i n . H i g h above the Bank of Ireland Unearthly music sounded, Passing w e s t w a r d s . T h e n , from the drains, S m a l l s e w a g e rats slid o u t . T h e y n u m b e r e d hundreds of hundreds, tens, thousands. E a c h b o w e d o b s e q u i o u s l y t o t h e s h a d o w y figures T h e n t u r n e d a n d j o i n e d i n a s t o m a c h d a n c e w i t h his b r o t h e r s a n d sisters. B e i n g a multitude, t h e y danced i r r e g u l a r l y .
10

I say, say nothing, say nothing!

A n d h e w h o h a d s e e m e d t o b e c o m i n g t o life

T h e r e w a s rat l a u g h t e r , Deeper here and there, A n d o c c a s i o n a l l y s h e - r a t cries g r e w h y s t e r i c a l . T h e s h a d o w y figures l o o k e d o n , a g o n i z e d . T h e w o m a n w i t h n o face g a v e a c r y a n d c o l l a p s e d . T h e rats d a n c e d o n h e r A n d on the wriggling words Smirking. T h e nursery g o v e r n o r flew back i n t o t h e well W i t h t h e little f i g u r e w i t h o u t h a n d s i n t h e b r o w n - t r e e c l o t h

RECESSIONAL I n t h e b r i g h t b r o a d Swiss glare I s t a n d l i s t e n i n g T o t h e o u t r a g e o u s roars Of the Engelbergeraa A s i t swirls d o w n t h e g o r g e A n d I t h i n k I am t h i n k i n g Of Roderick Hudson. B u t , as I s t a n d , T i m e closes o v e r s i g h t , And sound Is d r o w n e d B y a l o n g silvery r o a r F r o m t h e far e n d s o f m e m o r y Of a w o r l d I h a v e left A n d I find I am t h i n k i n g : Supposing I drowned n o w , T h i s tired, tiresome b o d y , B e f o r e flesh creases f u r t h e r , M i g h t , r e c o v e r e d , g o fair, T o b e laid i n S a i n t L a c h t i n ' s , Near where once, In t e n d e r , less g l a r i n g , island days A n d ways I could hear W l i c i c listeners still h e a r

11

T h a t far-away, dear Roar T h e l o n g , silvery r o a r O f Mai Bay.

A U S T I N

C L A R K E

Born D u b l i n , 1896. Educated at Belvedere College and University College Dublin. Lecturer in English at U C D , 1 9 1 7 - 2 1 . Relieved of his post due to official disapproval of his marital circumstances. W o r k e d as literary journalist in L o n d o n , 1 9 2 2 - 3 7 . Thereafter lived in Dublin until his death in 1974. A u t h o r of verse plays, autobiographies and three highly regarded prose romances, The Bright Temptation (1932), Tie Singing Men at Cashel (1936) and Tie Sun Dances at Easter (1952). C Clarke's prosodic innovations - his efforts to develop what his m e n t o r T h o m a s M a c D o n a g h called 'an Irish m o d e ' - link h i m b o t h to the cultural nationalism of the Literary Revival and the modernist localism of William Carlos Williams and H u g h M a c D i a r m i d . Historical settings and a Gaelicised metric cloak the early poetry's c o m m e n t a r y on the disenchantments of post-revolutionary Ireland. After a seventeen-year silence Clarke returned w i t h a m o r e directly satirical and topical voice in 1955. T h e first seven p o e m s in the selection c o m e from the earlier i areer, the last four from the later. In b o t h phases the poet measures the tawdriness of the present against the splendour of the past, and identifies spiritual with sexual freedom. His social criticisms derive m u c h of their force from his sense that the civil and ecclesiastical authorities in m o d e r n I n l a n d have betrayed their heritage. ' T h e Lost Heifer' seeks amid i IK mayhem of the Irish Civil W a r (1922-3) to resurrect the old Gaelic image of Ireland as ' D r o i m e a n n D o n n Dilis' (faithful b r o w n heifer). ' I he Straying Student' rewrites as a paean to sexual emancipation an e i g h t e e n t h - c e n t u r y song about a repentant, love-lorn friar. In 'Martha HI.ike at Fifty-one' the unilluminating indignities of the life and death of a pious Dublin spinster are c o u n t e r p o i n t e d by the visions of S.MIII Teresa of Avila, Saint T h r s e of Lisieux and Saint J o h n of the < IOSS. Eroticism - always for Clarke a m o d e of political resistance emerges in the very late 'Tiresias' (1971) as a celebration of an achieved personal i n d e p e n d e n c e .

IIII

I ( ) S I III II I . k

When

the l>l.i< k h e r d s o l t h e rain w e r e g r a z i n g

In the gap 'l i h e pure < o l d w i n d

11

A n d the w a t e r y hazes of the hazel Brought her into my mind, I t h o u g h t o f t h e last h o n e y b y t h e w a t e r T h a t no hive can find. Brightness was drenching t h r o u g h the branches W h e n she w a n d e r e d again, T u r n i n g t h e silver o u t o f d a r k grasses W h e r e t h e skylark h a d lain, A n d h e r v o i c e c o m i n g softly o v e r t h e m e a d o w W a s t h e m i s t b e c o m i n g rain.

from T H E Y O U N G W O M A N OF BEARE T h r o u g h lane or black archway, T h e praying people hurry, W h e n shadows have been walled, A t m a r k e t hall a n d g a t e , B y l o w f i r e s after nightfall; T h e b r i g h t sodalities Are bannered in the churches; But I am only roused By horsemen of de Burgo T h a t gallop t o m y h o u s e . G o l d slots o f t h e s u n l i g h t C l o s e u p m y lids a t e v e n i n g . H a l f clad i n s i l k e n piles I lie u p o n a h o t c h e e k . H a l f i n d r e a m I lie t h e r e Until bad thoughts have b l o o m e d In flushes of desire. Drowsy with indulgence, I please a s e c r e t e y e T h a t opens at the Judgment. I am the bright temptation In talk, in w i n e , in s l e e p . A l t h o u g h t h e clergy p r a y .
i i

I t r i u m p h in a d r e a m . Strange armies tax t h e s o u t h , Y e t little d o I c a r e W h a t fiery bridge or t o w n Has heard the shout begin T h a t O r m o n d ' s m e n are o u t A n d the Geraldine is in. T h e w o m e n a t g r e e n stall A n d doorstep on a weekday, W h o have b e e n c h i n n e d w i t h scorn O f m e , w o u l d n e v e r sleep So well, could they but k n o w Their husbands turn at midnight, A n d covet in a d r e a m T h e t o u c h i n g o f m y flesh. Small w o n d e r that m e n k n e e l T h e longer at confession. Bullies, that fight in d r a m s h o p F o r f l u t t e r e d rags a n d b a r e side At beggars' bush, m a y gamble To-night on what they find. I laze in y e l l o w l a m p l i g h t Y o u n g wives have envied me A n d l a u g h a m o n g lace p i l l o w s , For a b i g - b o o t e d captain H a s p o u r e d t h e p u r s e o f silver T h a t glitters i n m y l a p . H e a v i l y o n his e l b o w , H e t u r n s f r o m a caress T o see - a s m y a r m s o p e n T h e r e d spurs o f m y breast. I d r a w fair pleats a r o u n d m e A n d stay his e y e a t p l e a s u r e , Show but a white knee-cap Or an i m m o d e s t smile U n t i l his s u d d e n h a n d I las d a r e d t h e silks that b i n d m e .

is

S e e ! S e e , as f r o m a l a t h e My polished b o d y turning! H e bares m e a t t h e waist A n d n o w blue clothes uncurl U p o n w h i t e h a u n c h . I let T h e last b r i g h t s t i t c h fall d o w n F o r h i m as I l e a n b a c k , Straining w i t h longer arms A b o v e m y h e a d t o snap T h e silver k n o t s o f s l e e p . T o g e t h e r in the dark Sin-fast - w e c a n e n j o y W h a t is allowed in marriage. T h e jingle of that coin I s still t h e s a m e , t h o u g h s t o l e n : B u t are t h e y n o t u n t h r i f t y , W h o spend it in a shame T h a t b r i n g s ill a n d r e p e n t a n c e , W h e n t h e y m i g h t p i n c h a n d save T h e m s e l v e s i n lawful p l e a s u r e ?

T H E PLANTER'S D A U G H T E R W h e n n i g h t s t i r r e d a t sea A n d t h e fire b r o u g h t a c r o w d i n , T h e y say t h a t h e r b e a u t y Was music in m o u t h A n d few in the candlelight Thought her too proud, For the house of the planter Is k n o w n by the trees. M e n that had seen her D r a n k d e e p a n d w e r e silent, T h e w o m e n were speaking W h e r e v e r she w e n t As a b e l l t h a t is r u n g Or a w o n d e r told shyly.

A n d O she was the Sunday In every week.

CELIBACY O n a b r o w n isle o f L o u g h C o r r i b , W h e n clouds w e r e bare as branch A n d water had been thorned By c o l d e r d a y s , I s a n k In t o r m e n t of h e r side; B u t still t h a t w o m a n s t a y e d , For eye obeys the m i n d . Bedraggled in the briar A n d g r e y fire o f t h e n e t t l e , T h r e e n i g h t s , I fell, I g r o a n e d O n t h e flagstone o f h e l p To pluck her from my body; For servant ribbed w i t h h u n g e r M a y c l i m b his r u n g s t o G o d . Eyelid stood back in sleep, I saw w h a t s e e m e d an Angel: D e w s d r i p p e d f r o m t h o s e b r i g h t feet. But, O, I k n e w the stranger By her deceit and, tired All n i g h t b y t e m p t i n g f l e s h , I w r e s t l e d h e r in h a i r - s h i r t . O n pale k n e e s i n t h e d a w n , Parting the straw that w r a p p e d m e , She sank until I saw T h e b r i g h t r o o t s o f h e r scalp. She pulled m e d o w n t o sleep, B u t I fled as t h e B a p t i s t T o thistle a n d t o r e e d . The d r a g o n s o l t h e G o s p e l A i c t asl 1 v bell a n d < 11 >< >k;
l /

B u t fiery as t h e frost O r bladed light, she d r e w T h e reeds back, w h e n I fought T h e a r r o w - h e a d e d airs That darken on the water.

MARTHA BLAKE Before the day is e v e r y w h e r e A n d the t i m i d w a r m t h o f sleep Is delicate on l i m b , she dares T h e silence o f t h e street U n t i l t h e d o u b l e bells are t h r o w n b a c k For Mass and echoes b o u n d In the chapel yard, O t h e n her soul Makes bold in the arms of sound. But in the shadow of the nave H e r w e l l - t a u g h t k n e e s are h u m b l e , S h e d o e s n o t see t h r o u g h a n y saint T h a t stands in t h e sun W i t h v e i n s o f l e a d , w i t h painful c r o w n ; She waits that d r e a d e d c o m i n g , W h e n all t h e c o n g r e g a t i o n b o w s And none may look up. T h e w o r d i s said, t h e W o r d s e n t d o w n , T h e miracle is d o n e B e n e a t h those hands that have b e e n r o u n d e d O v e r the embodied cup, A n d w i t h a f e w , s h e leaves h e r p l a c e K e p t b y a n east-filled w i n d o w A n d k n e e l s a t t h e c o m m u n i o n rail Starching beneath her chin. S h e t r e m b l e s for t h e S o n o f M a n , W h i l e the priest is m u r m u r i n g W h a t s h e c a n scarcely tell, h e r h e a r t Is m a k i n g s u c h a stir;

B u t w h e n he picks a particle A n d she puts o u t her t o n g u e , T h a t j o y is the glittering of candles A n d benediction sung. H e r soul is lying in t h e P r e s e n c e U n t i l h e r senses, o n e By o n e , desiring to attend her, C o m e a s for feast a n d r u n S o fast t o s h a r e t h e s a c r a m e n t , H e r m o u t h must mother them: ' S w e e t t o o t h g r o w wise, lip, g u m b e gentle, I touch a purple hem.' Afflicted b y t h a t l o v e s h e t u r n s T o m u l t i p l y h e r praise, G o e s o v e r all t h e foolish w o r d s A n d finds t h e y are t h e s a m e ; B u t n o w s h e feels w i t h i n h e r b r e a s t S u c h c a l m t h a t s h e is s i l e n t , For soul can n e v e r be i m m o d e s t W h e r e b o d y m a y n o t listen. On a holy day of obligation I s a w h e r first in p r a y e r , B u t m o r t a l e y e h a d b e e n t o o late F o r all t h a t t h o u g h t c o u l d d a r e . T h e flame in heart is never grieved T h a t pride and intellect W e r e cast b e l o w , w h e n G o d r e v e a l e d A h e a v e n for this e a r t h . So to begin the c o m m o n day She needs a miracle, K n o w i n g t h e safety o f a n g e l s T h a t see h e r h o m e a g a i n , Y e t i g n o r a n t o f all t h e rest, T h e h i d d e n grace that p e o p l e I l u r r y i n g to b u s i n e s s
I o o k alter in the street

1;

T H E STRAYING S T U D E N T O n a h o l y d a y w h e n sails w e r e b l o w i n g s o u t h w a r d , A bishop sang t h e Mass at I n i s h m o r e , M e n t o o k o n e side, their wives w e r e o n t h e o t h e r But I heard the w o m a n c o m i n g from the shore: A n d wild in despair my parents cried aloud For they saw the vision d r a w me to the d o o r w a y . L o n g had she lived i n R o m e w h e n P o p e s w e r e bad, T h e w e a l t h o f every age she m a k e s h e r o w n , Y e t smiled on me in eager admiration, A n d for a s u m m e r t a u g h t m e all I k n o w , Banishing shame w i t h h e r great laugh that rang As if a pillar c a u g h t it b a c k a l o n e . I learned the p r o u d e r counsel of her throat, My m i n d was g r o w i n g b o l d as light in G r e e c e ; A n d w h e n i n sleep h e r stirring limbs w e r e s h o w n , I blessed the n o o n d a y r o c k that k n e w no tree: A n d for a n h o u r t h e m o u n t a i n w a s h e r t h r o n e , A l t h o u g h h e r eyes w e r e bright w i t h m o c k e r y . T h e y say I w a s s e n t b a c k f r o m S a l a m a n c a A n d failed i n l o g i c , b u t I w r o t e h e r praise N i n e times u p o n a college wall in France. S h e laid h e r h a n d a t darkfall o n m y p a g e T h a t I m i g h t read t h e heavens in a glance A n d I k n e w e v e r y star t h e M o o r s h a v e n a m e d . A w a k e or in my sleep, I have no peace n o w , B e f o r e t h e ball i s s t r u c k , m y b r e a t h has g o n e , A n d y e t I t r e m b l e lest s h e m a y d e c e i v e m e A n d l e a v e m e i n this l a n d , w h e r e e v e r y w o m a n ' s s o n M u s t c a r r y his o w n coffin a n d b e l i e v e , I n d r e a d , all t h a t t h e c l e r g y t e a c h t h e y o u n g .

PENAL LAW B u r n O v i d w i t h t h e rest. L o v e r s w i l l find A h e d g e - s c h o o l for themselves and learn by heart All t h a t t h e c l e r g y b a n i s h f r o m t h e m i n d , W h e n h a n d s are j o i n e d a n d h e a d b o w s i n t h e d a r k .

ST CHRISTOPHER C h i l d t h a t his s t r e n g t h u p b o r e , K n o t t e d as t r e e - t r u n k s i' the spate, B e c a m e a giant, w h o s e w e i g h t U n e a r t h e d the river from shore T i l l saint's b o n e s w e r e a - c r a c k . F a b u l i s t , c a n an ill state Like ours, carry so great A C h u r c h u p o n its b a c k ?

EARLY UNFINISHED SKETCH R o s a l i n d , in a negligee, B e g a n t o s k e t c h m e a s I lay N a k e d and s o o n her serious t o u c h On sheet delighted me as m u c h I n art a s l o v i n g . P e n c i l d r e w , Poised, m e a s u r e d again, sped d o w n w a r d , flew Like love scattering clothes to greet Itself. T h e o u t l i n e w a s c o m p l e t e . She p o n d e r e d . Detail was different, M o r e difficult. S h e s e e m e d i n t e n t O n w h a t the ancients had adored, Christian apologists d e p l o r e d . ' F i n i s h it, p e t , h o w c a n I w a i t ? ' 'But, darling, I must c o n c e n t r a t e . ' S h e failed, fled b a c k t o o u r caresses, Sat u p ' W h a t s wrong?'

' T h e p r o b l e m presses.' ' I h a v e it! Y e s . T h a t g r o u p i n b r o n z e . ' ' T h e satyrs?' ' H e r r i c k w o u l d call t h e m f a u n s . ' 'Stock-still - ' 'in t h e fountain spray at F l o r e n c e . ' 'All t o u r i s t s s h o w i n g t h e i r a b h o r r e n c e ! ' 'But if that sculptor dared to limn it -' ' T h e n u d e , to-day, must have a limit.' ' A n d Rosalind -' ' o b e y t h e laws O f decency.' 'In the line she draws?'

MARTHA BLAKE AT FIFTY-ONE Early, each m o r n i n g , M a r t h a Blake Walked, angeling the road, T o Mass i n t h e C h u r c h o f t h e T h r e e P a t r o n s . Sanctuary lamp glowed A n d the clerk halo'ed the candles O n t h e H i g h Altar. She knelt Illumined. In g o l d - h e m m e d alb, T h e priest i n t o n e d . W a x m e l t e d . W a i t i n g for daily C o m m u n i o n , b o w e d h e a d A t rail, s h e h e a r s a m u r m u r . L a t i n is n e a r . In a s w e e t c l o u d T h a t c h e r u b ' d , all o c c u r r e d . T h e voice w e n t by. T o her pure thought, B o d y w a s a distress A n d s o u l , a sigh. B e h i n d h e r d e n t u r e , L o v e lay, a h e l p l e s s n e s s . T h e n , s l o w l y w a l k i n g after M a s s D o w n Rathgar R o a d , she t o o k o u t H e r Yale key, p u t a m a t c h to gas-ring, Half filled a saucepan, c o o k e d

A fresh e g g l i g h t l y , w i t h t e a , b r o w n b r e a d , S o o n , t a k i n g off h e r b l o u s e A n d skirt, s h e r e s t e d , p r e s s i n g t h e C r o w n O f T h o r n s until she d r o w s e d . I n h e r b l a c k h a t , s t o c k i n g s , s h e passed N y l o n s to a nearby shop A n d p u r c h a s e d , daily, w i t h d o w n c a s t e y e s , Fillet o f s t e a k o r a c h o p . She s i m m e r e d it on a l o w jet, Having a poor appetite, Y e t n e v e r for a n h o u r felt b e t t e r F r o m dilatation, tightness. S h e suffered f r o m d r o p p e d s t o m a c h , h e a r t b u r n Scalding, water-brash A n d w h e n she b r o u g h t h e r w i n d u p , t u r n i n g Red with the weight of mashed Potato, m i n t could not relieve her. In vain her m a n y belches, F o r all b e l o w w a s s w e l l i n g , h e a v i n g W a m b l e , gurgle, squelch. S h e lay o n t h e sofa w i t h legs u p , A d e c a d e on h e r lip, At four o'clock, taking a c u p O f l u k e w a r m w a t e r , sip B y sip, b u t still h e r daily f o o d R e p e a t e d and the bile T o r m e n t e d her. In a blue h o o d , T h e V i r g i n sadly s m i l e d . W h e n she l o o k e d u p , t h e S a v i o u r s h o w e d His Heart, daggered w i t h flame And, from the mantle-shelf, St J o s e p h Bent, disapproving. Vainly S h e p r a y e d , for i n t h e w h a t n o t c o r n e r T h e n e w P o p e was f r o w n i n g . N i g h t A n d d a y , dull p a i n , a s i n h e r c o r n s , R e c o u n t e d every bite.

2I

She thought of St Teresa, floating On motes of a sunbeam, C a r m e l i t e w i t h scatterful r o b e s , Surrounded by demons, Small black boys in t h e i r skin. She g a p e d A t H e l l : a m u d d y passage T h a t led to nothing, q u e e r in shape, A c u p b o a r d closely fastened. S o m e t i m e s , t h e walls o f t h e p a r l o u r W o u l d fade a w a y . N o p l o d O f feet, r a t t l e o f v a n , i n G a r v i l l e Road. Soul n o w gone abroad W h e r e saints, l i k e m e d i e v a l serfs, H a d laboured. Great sun-flower shone. O u r Lady's C h a p e l was b o r n e b y seraphs, T h r e e leagues b e y o n d A n c o n a . H i g h t o w n s o f Italy, t h e p l a i n Of France, were k n o w n to Martha As she read in a h o l y b o o k . T h e sky-blaze N o o n e d at Padua, Marble grotto of Bernadette. R o s e - s c a t t e r e r s . N e w saints I n t r o p i c a l Africa w h e r e t h e tsetse F l y p r o b e s , t h e forest t a i n t s . Teresa had heard the Lutherans H o w l i n g o n r e d - h o t spit, A n d grill, m e n w h o h a d s e a r c h e d for t r u t h Alone in Holy Writ. S o M a r t h a , fearful o f f l a m e l a s h i n g T h o s e heretics, each instant, N e v e r dealt in the haberdashery Shop, o w n e d b y t w o Protestants. In a m b u s h of night, an angel w o u n d e d T h e Spaniard to the heart W i t h i r o n t i p o n fire. S w o o n i n g W i t h p a i n a n d bliss as a dart

' i

M o v e d up and d o w n within her bowels Q u i c k e r , q u i c k e r , e a c h cell Sweating as if rubbed up with towels, H e r spirit r o s e a n d fell. St J o h n of the Cross, h e r friend, in prison Awaits the bridal night, P a l e r t h a n lilies, his w i z e n e d s k i n F l o w e r s . I n fifths o f flight, Senses b e y o n d seraphic t h o u g h t , I n t h a t d i v i n e s t clasp, E n f o l d i n g o f kisses t h a t c a u t e r i z e , Yield to the soul-spasm. C u n n i n g in b o d y had c o m e to hate All t h i s a n d s t i r r e d b y m i s c h i e f H a l e d M a r t h a from h e a v e n . H e a r t palpitates A n d t e r r o r i n h e r stiffens. H e a r t misses o n e b e a t , t w o . . . flutters . . . s t o p s . H e r ears a r e full o f s o u n d . H a l f f a i n t i n g , s h e stares a t t h e g r a n d f a t h e r c l o c k As if it w e r e o v e r w o u n d . T h e fit h a d c o m e . I l l - n a t u r e d flesh Despised h e r soul. N o b e n d i n g C o u l d ease r i b . A r o u n d h e r h e a r t , p r e s s u r e Of w i n d grew worse. Again, A g a i n , a r m c h a i r e d w i t h o u t relief, She eructated, phlegm I n m o u t h , f o r g o t t h e w o e , t h e grief, Foretold at Bethlehem. T i r e d o f t h e s a m e faces, s i d e - a l t a r s , She w e n t to the Carmelite C h u r c h A t J o h n s o n ' s C o u r t , c o n f e s s e d h e r faults, There, once a week, purchased T e a , b u t t e r i n C h a t h a m St. T h e p o n d In St S t e p h e n ' s G r e e n was grand. S h e w a t c h e d t h e seagulls, d u c k s , b l a c k s w a n , W e n t h o m e by the IS train.

H e r beads in hand, M a r t h a b e c a m e A m e m b e r of the Third Order, Saved from long purgatorial pain, B r o w n habit and w h i t e cord H e r o w n w h e n c e r g e s h a d b e e n lit A r o u n d h e r coffin. S h e g o t N i n e t y - f i v e p o u n d s o n l o a n for h e r b i t O f clay i n t h e c o m m o n p l o t . O f t e n she t h o u g h t o f a q u i e t s i c k - w a r d , N u n s , with delicious ways, Consoling the miserable; quick T e a , toast o n trays. W i s h i n g T o rid t h e m s e l v e s o f h e r , k i n d n e i g h b o u r s S e n t for t h e a m b u l a n c e , B e f o r e h e r b r o t h e r a n d sister c o u l d h u r r y T o help her. Big gate clanged. N o medical examination For the n e w patient. D o c t o r H a d g o n e t o C o r k o n holidays. T e l e p h o n e sprang. Hall-clock Proclaimed the quarters. Clatter of heels O n tiles. C o r r i d o r , w a r d , A - w h i r r w i t h the electric cleaner, T h e creak of w i n d o w cord. She c o u l d n o t sleep at night. Feeble A n d old, t w o w o m e n raved A n d cried to G o d . She held her beads. O h o w c o u l d s h e b e saved? T h e h o s p i t a l h a d this a n d t h a t r u l e . Day-chill unshuttered. N u n , with T h e r m o m e t e r in reticule, W e n t by. T h e w o m e n m u m b l e d . M o t h e r Superior believed T h a t she was obstinate, self-willed. Sisters i g n o r e d h e r , h a n d s - i n - s l e e v e s , B e s i d e a p a n t r y shelf

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O r c o u n t i n g pillow-case, soiled sheet. T h e y gave h e r purgatives. Soul-less, she t o t t e r e d to t h e toilet. O n l y her b o d y lived. W a s t e d b y colitis, r e f u s e d T h e daily s a c r a m e n t By regulation, fobidden use O f b e d - p a n , w h e n meals w e r e sent u p , B e h i n d a s c r e e n , s h e lay, s h i v e r i n g , U n a b l e t o eat. T h e s o u p W a s greasy, m u t t o n , b e e f o r liver, C o l d . K i t c h e n has n o s c r u p l e s . T h e N u n s h a d let t h e field i n f r o n t As an A m u s e m e n t Park, M e r r y - g o - r o u n d , a n o i s y m o n t h , all H e l t e r i n g - s k e l t e r i n g a t darkfall, Mechanical music, dipper, hold-tights, R i f l e - c r a c k , crash o f d o d g e m s . T h e w a r d , godless w i t h s h a d o w , lights, H o w c o u l d she pray t o G o d ? Unpitied, wasting with diarrhea A n d t h e c o n s t a n t strain, P o o r C h i l d o f M a r y w i t h o n e idea, S h e r u p t u r e d a small v e i n , Bled inwardly t o jazz. N o priest C a m e . She had b e e n anointed T w o days b e f o r e , y e t k n e w n o p e a c e : H e r last b r e a t h , d i s a p p o i n t e d .

from TIRESIAS, II 'Strolling o n e day, b e y o n d the Kalends, on M o u n t Cyllene, W h a t s h o u l d I spy n e a r t h e d u s t y track b u t a c o u p l e o f s u n - s p o t t e d Snakes I
linn

w n t h e n together shrank

flashen a s t h e y c o p u l a t e d ,

I >it-.niiily' ( a n i o n s a b o u t t h e o r i g i n ol s p e c i e s , I t o u c h e d t h e m . I fell in alarm t w o ugly t u m o u r s

Swell from m y chest. J u n o , o u r universal m o t h e r , y o u K n o w h o w easily a c h i l d w e t s t h e b e d a t n i g h t . P a r d o n Frankness in saying that my enlarged bladder let g o . " G o d s , " it Lamented, "has he b e c o m e an unfortunate w o m a n , h u m b l e d by Fate, yes, forced twice a day, to c r o u c h d o w n on h e r hunkers? L e a f - c u t t i n g b e e affrights m e , A r i a d n e w i t h i n h e r w e b - r o u n d s . " T i m i d l y h i d d e n a s h a m a d r y a d against h e r o a k - b a r k , I d a r e d to pull up resisting t u n i c , e x p o s e my n e w breasts Saw t h e y w e r e beautiful. Lightly I fingered the nipples A n d a s t h e y c h e r r i e d , I felt b e l o w t h e b u r n i n g a n s w e r ; Still d r e n c h e d , 1 g l a n c e d d o w n , b u t o n l y a m o d e s t y o f a u b u r n C u r l e t s w a s t h e r e . I f a m a n w h o s e l i m b has b e e n a m p u t a t e d Still feels t h e t h r o b o f c u t a r t e r i e s , c o u l d I f o r g e t n o w P r i c k l e o f p i n t e l ? H o u r - l o n g I g r i e v e d u n t i l full m o o n l i g h t , E n t e r i n g t h e f o r e s t r y , s i l v e r e d m y breasts. T h e y r o s e u p s o c a l m l y , So p r o u d , that peace - taking my h a n d in gladness - led me H o m e , escorted by lucciole. O n e fine d a y D u r i n g siesta I g a z e d i n r e v e r e n c e a t m y n a k e d B o d y , slim a s a n e s p o l i t r e e , d a r e d t o p l a c e m y s h a v i n g M i r r o r o f p o l i s h e d silver - a b i r t h d a y gift f r o m m y m o t h e r B e t w e e n m y legs, i n s p e c t e d this w a y a n d t h a t , t h e fleshy F o l d s g u a r d i n g t h e s h o r t c u t , r e d a s m y real lips, t o P l e a s u r e Pass. N e x t d a y I a w o k e i n a l a r m , felt a t r i c k l e o f b l o o d halfW a y d o w n m y thigh. " M o t h e r , " I sobbed. " O u r bold Penates Pricked me during sleep." " L e t m e l o o k a t it, P y r r h a . " She laughed, then Said: " W h y it's n o t h i n g t o w o r r y a b o u t , m y p e t , all w o m e n Suffer this s h a m e e v e r y m o n t h . " " W h a t does it m e a n ? " " T h a t y o u are R e a d y for n u p t i a l b l i s s . " A n d s a y i n g this, s h e c l e a n s e d , b a n d a g e d , B o u n d m y flowers. W h e n I r e c o v e r e d , .1 b u r n i n g s e n s a t i o n
2H

S t a y e d . Restless a t n i g h t , l y i n g o n m y b e l l y , I l o n g e d for Mortal or centaur to surprise m e . O n e day during Siesta, I p u t o n m y t a n a g r a dress, t i g h t l y B e l t e d , w i t h f l o u n c y skirt, a n d c a r r y i n g a b l u e m a n t l e , Tiptoed from our h o m e by shuttered w i n d o w , barred shop-front, Local t e m p l e , t o o k t h e s e c o n d t u r n a t t h e t r i v i u m , R e a c h e d a sultriness of hills. I w e n t up a m u l e - t r a c k T h r o u g h a high w o o d b e y o n d the pasturage: a shepherd's Bothy was there before m e . I peeped, saw a b e d of bracken C o v e r e d w i t h a w o r n s h e e p - s k i n . I v e n t u r e d in: l i s t e n e d , H e a r d far a w a y clink-clank, clink-clank as a b e l l - w e t h e r G r a z e d w i t h his flock w h i l e m a s t e r a n d d o g w e r e m y r t l e d S o m e w h e r e in the coolness. By n o w I had almost forgotten M u c h o f m y past, y e t r e m e m b e r e d t h e l o v e - s o n g s t h a t s h e p h e r d s Piped a m o n g rock-roses to pretty b o y or shy goat-girl. W a s i t a p a s t o r a l air t h a t h a d l e d m e t o this b o t h y ? Surely I was mistaken. Paper-knife, p u m i c e , goose-quill, Manuscripts, had b e e n piled untidily together, I n k s t a n d , w a x t a b l e t s , small p a i n t - b r u s h e s o n a r u s t i c Table. " A s t u d e n t lives h e r e , " I thought, and half-undressing, Wearily spreading my cloak along the sheep-skin, Lay o n b l u e n e s s , w o n d e r e d a s I c l o s e d m y e y e l i d s , " W h a t w i l l h e d o w h e n h e sees m e i n m y d e s h a b i l l e ? " Soon M o r p h e u s h i d me in u n d r e a m i n g sleep until dusk. I w o k e up N o t i n t h e a r m s o f softness b u t u n d e r n e a t h t h e g e n t l e W e i g h t of a naked youth. V a i n l y I called o u t , " A l m i g h t y J o v e , " s t r u g g l e d against his r i g i d w i l l - p o w e r . ' ' A n d yielded?' ' Y e s , for h o w c o u l d I s t o p h i m w h e n I b u r n e d a s h e d i d ? I n w h a t s e e m e d less t h a n a m i n u t e , I h a d b e e n d e f l o w e r e d W i t h o u t pleasure o r pang. O n c e m o r e , the y o u n g m a n m o u n t e d . I ) e t e r m i n e d b y e v e r y g o d d e s s i n h i g h h e a v e n t o s h a r e his S p i l l i n g , I t w i n e d , but pist as I w.is a b o u t to . . . ' 'What happened?'
.">

' H e spent. O w h y should the spurren pleasure of expectant W o m a n b e snaffled w i t h i n a y a r d o f t h e g r a n d s t a n d ? W h i l e he was resting, I asked h i m : " W h a t is your name?" "Chelos, T h i r d - y e a r student in Egyptology. Later I'll s h o w y o u r o l l e d p a p y r i , h i e r o g l y p h i c s , T i n t e d lettering, sand-yellow, N i l u s - b r o w n , reed-green, O u t l i n e d w i t h hawk, h o r n , lotus-bud, sceptre, sun-circles, Crescent." H e told m e o f foreign w o n d e r s , the Colossus G u a r d i n g t h e h a r b o u r o f R h o d e s , his c o d b u l k i e r t h a n a W e l l - f i l l e d f r e i g h t e r p a s s i n g his s h i n s , u n f l o o d a b l e T e m p l e s b e y o n d Assuan, rock-treasuries, the M o u n t a i n s Of the M o o n , Alexandria and the Pharos Night-light of shipping. S o o n in a grotto-spring u n d e r fern-drip. K n e e - d e e p , w e s p o n g e d o n e a n o t h e r , back a n d side, laughing. C h e l o s faggoted, tricked t h e brazier from s m o k e to flame, while I F o u n d in a cupboard cut of ibex, stewed it with carob B e a n s , sliced a p p l e , o n i o n , t h y m e - s p r i g . A n d s o w e h a d s u p p e r , S h a r i n g a skin of A e t n i a n w i n e until t h e m i d n i g h t H o u r , t h e n t i p t o e d tipsily b a c k t o o u r m a n t l e d l o v e - b e d . D r o w s i l y e n t w i n e d , w e m o v e d s l o w l y , softly, w i t h h o l d i n g O u r s e l v e s i n s w e e t delays u n t i l a t last w e y i e l d e d , M i n g l i n g o u r natural flow, feeling it almost linger I n t o o u r sleep. Stirred by the melilot daylight, I w o k e up. C h e l o s lay a s p r a w l a n d I k n e w t h a t h e m u s t b e d r e a m i n g o f m e F o r h e m u r m u r e d " P y r r h a " . I f o n d l e d his i t h y p h a l l u s , u n c a p p e d it, S a w for t h e f i r s t t i m e t h e k n o b , a p u r p l e - r e d p l u m , y e t f i r m e r . C o v e r i n g h i m like a m a n , I m o v e d u n t i l h e g r i p p e d m e : F a s t e r , y e t faster, w e s p e d , d e t e r m i n e d d o w n - t h r u s t r i v a l l i n g U p - t h r u s t - s u c c u s glissading us - e x q u i s i t e s p a s m C o n t r a c t i n g , dilating, c h a n g e d into m i n u t e preparatory Orgasms, a pleasure u n k n o w n to m a n , that culminated W i t h i n t h e i r n a r r o w i n g circles i n t o t h e g r e a t o r g a s m o s . '

in

P A T R I C K

K A V A N A G H

Born Inniskecn, C o u n t y M o n a g h a n , 1904. Left school early to w o r k as small fanner and shoemaker. M o v e d in 1939 to D u b l i n , w h e r e he eked out a living on the fringes of literary journalism. Ran o w n newspaper, Kavanagh's Weekly, for thirteen issues in 1952. D i e d 1967, the year of his marriage. T w o s e m i - c o m i c prose w o r k s , The Green Fool (1938) and Tarry Flynn (1948), give respectively indulgent and unsparing portraits of the struggles of a poetic y o u n g m a n in an impoverished rural c o m m u n i t y . W i t h its subtly h e i g h t e n e d colloquial speech rhythms and direct apprehension of experience, u n m e d i a t e d by m y t h or literary allusiveness, Kavanagh's w o r k has i m m e n s e appeal in Ireland. T h e poetry's challenge to the Literary Revival's idealisation of the peasant tends to be read - a shade t o o comfortably, perhaps - as a vindication of day-to-day Irishness. Kavanagh is grittily realistic about the rural scene alike in his rhapsodic lyrics and in Tlte Great Hunger (1942), his impassioned complaint against the miseries of small-farm life. 'Father M a t ' , derived from an abandoned long p o e m Why Sorrow?, strikes a balance b e t w e e n characteristic impulses towards praise and protest. ' T h e Twelfth of July' and 'Elegy for J i m Larkin' confront the petit-bourgeois, Catholic values of the southern state while absorbing politics into an edgy, visionary subjectivity. Shifting registers w i t h c o n s u m m a t e skill b e h i n d its ostentatiously ramshackle exterior, ' T h e I lospital' is perhaps the most remarkable of ten sonnets written in the wake of an operation for lung cancer in 1954.

TO T H E MAN AFTER T H E HARROW

N o w l e a v e t h e c h e c k - r e i n s slack, T h e s e e d is flying far t o - d a y T h e s e e d like stars against t h e b l a c k E t e r n i t y of A p r i l clay. T h i s s e e d is p o t e n t as t h e s e e d ( )t k n o w l e d g e in t h e H e b r e w H o o k ,

So drive y o u r horses in the creed Of G o d the Father as a stook. F o r g e t t h e m e n o n B r a d y ' s hill. F o r g e t w h a t B r a d y ' s b o y m a y say. F o r d e s t i n y w i l l n o t fulfil U n l e s s y o u let t h e h a r r o w p l a y . Forget the w o r m ' s opinion too Of hooves and pointed harrow-pins, F o r y o u are d r i v i n g y o u r h o r s e s t h r o u g h T h e mist w h e r e Genesis begins.

S T O N Y GREY SOIL O s t o n y g r e y soil o f M o n a g h a n T h e laugh from my love you thieved; Y o u t o o k t h e gay child o f m y passion A n d gave m e y o u r clod-conceived. Y o u c l o g g e d t h e feet o f m y b o y h o o d A n d I believed that my stumble H a d the poise a n d stride o f A p o l l o A n d his v o i c e m y t h i c k - t o n g u e d m u m b l e . Y o u told m e the p l o u g h was immortal! O green-life-conquering plough! Y o u r mandril strained, y o u r coulter b l u n t e d I n t h e s m o o t h lea-field o f m y b r o w . Y o u sang o n steaming dunghills A song of cowards' b r o o d , Y o u perfumed my clothes w i t h weasel itch, Y o u fed m e o n s w i n i s h f o o d . Y o u flung a ditch on my vision Of beauty, love and truth. O s t o n y g r e y soil of M o n a g h a n You burgled my bank ol youth!

Lost t h e l o n g h o u r s of pleasure All t h e w o m e n t h a t l o v e y o u n g m e n . O can I still s t r o k e t h e m o n s t e r ' s b a c k Or write with unpoisoned pen

His n a m e in these lonely verses O r m e n t i o n the dark f i e l d s w h e r e T h e f i r s t g a y flight o f m y lyric G o t caught in a peasant's prayer. Mullahinsha, D r u m m e r i l , Black Shanco W h e r e v e r I t u r n I see I n t h e s t o n y g r e y soil o f M o n a g h a n D e a d l o v e s t h a t w e r e b o r n for m e .

from T H E GREAT H U N G E R
I

("lay is t h e w o r d a n d clay is t h e flesh W h e r e the p o t a t o - g a t h e r e r s like m e c h a n i s e d scarecrows m o v e A l o n g t h e side-fall o f t h e hill - M a g u i r e a n d his m e n . If we w a t c h t h e m an h o u r is there a n y t h i n g we can p r o v e O f life a s i t i s b r o k e n - b a c k e d o v e r t h e B o o k O f D e a t h ? H e r e c r o w s g a b b l e o v e r w o r m s a n d frogs A n d t h e gulls l i k e o l d n e w s p a p e r s are b l o w n c l e a r o f t h e hedges, luckily. I s t h e r e s o m e l i g h t o f i m a g i n a t i o n i n t h e s e w e t clods? C )r w h y do we stand h e r e shivering? W h i c h o f these m e n L o v e d the light a n d t h e q u e e n Too l o n g virgin? Yesterday was s u m m e r . W h o was i t p r o m i s e d marriage to himself B e f o r e a p p l e s w e r e h u n g f r o m t h e c e i l i n g s for H a l l o w e ' e n ? W e will w a i t a n d w a t c h t h e t r a g e d y t o t h e last c u r t a i n , Till the last soul passively like a b a g of w e t clay Rolls d o w n t h e side o f t h e hill, d i v e r t e d b y t h e a n g l e s W h c i e t h e p l o u g h missed o r a s p a d e stands, s t r a i t e n i n g the w a y .

A d o g lying on a t o r n j a c k e t u n d e r a h e e l e d - u p cart, A horse nosing along the posied headland, trailing A rusty p l o u g h . T h r e e heads h a n g i n g b e t w e e n w i d e - a p a r t L e g s . O c t o b e r p l a y i n g a s y m p h o n y o n a slack w i r e p a l i n g . M a g u i r e w a t c h e s t h e drills f l a t t e n e d o u t A n d t h e flints t h a t lit a c a n d l e for h i m o n a J u n e altar F l a m e l e s s . T h e drills s l i p p e d b y a n d t h e d a y s s l i p p e d b y A n d h e t r e m b l e d his h e a d a w a y a n d r a n free f r o m t h e w o r l d ' s halter, A n d t h o u g h t himself wiser than any m a n in the townland W h e n h e laughed over pints o f porter O f h o w h e c a m e free f r o m e v e r y n e t s p r e a d I n t h e gaps o f e x p e r i e n c e . H e s h o o k a k n o w i n g h e a d A n d p r e t e n d e d t o his s o u l T h a t c h i l d r e n are t e d i o u s i n h u r r y i n g f i e l d s o f A p r i l W h e r e m e n are s p a n g i n g across w i d e f u r r o w s . L o s t in t h e p a s s i o n t h a t n e v e r n e e d s a w i f e T h e pricks that pricked w e r e the p o i n t e d pins of harrows. C h i l d r e n scream so loud that the crows could bring T h e seed o f a n acre a w a y w i t h c r o w - r u d e jeers. P a t r i c k M a g u i r e , h e c a l l e d his d o g a n d h e f l u n g a s t o n e i n t h e air A n d h a l l o o e d t h e birds a w a y that w e r e t h e birds o f t h e years. T u r n o v e r t h e w e e d y c l o d s a n d tease o u t t h e t a n g l e d s k e i n s . W h a t i s h e l o o k i n g for t h e r e ? He thinks it is a potato, but we k n o w better T h a n his m u d - g l o v e d f i n g e r s p r o b e i n t h i s i n s e n s i t i v e h a i r . ' M o v e forward the basket a n d balance it steady I n this h o l l o w . P u l l d o w n t h e shafts o f t h a t c a r t , J o e , A n d s t r a d d l e t h e h o r s e , ' M a g u i r e calls. ' T h e w i n d ' s o v e r B r a n n a g a n ' s , n o w that m e a n s rain. G r a i p u p s o m e w i t h e r e d stalks a n d see t h a t n o p o t a t o falls O v e r t h e t a i l - b o a r d g o i n g d o w n t h e r u c k e t y pass A n d that's a j o b w e ' l l h a v e t o d o i n D e c e m b e r . G r a v e l i t a n d b u i l d a k e r b o n t h e b o g - s i d e . I s t h a t C a s s i d y ' s ass O u t in my clover? C u r s e o' G o d W h e r e is that dog? N e v e r w h e r e h e ' s w a n t e d . ' M a g u i r e g r u n t s a n d spits T h r o u g h a c l a y - w a t t l e d m o u s t a c h e a n d stares a b o u t h i m from t h e height.

His d r e a m changes like t h e c l o u d - s w u n g w i n d A n d h e i s n o t s o s u r e n o w i f his m o t h e r w a s r i g h t W h e n s h e p r a i s e d t h e m a n w h o m a d e a field his b r i d e . W a t c h h i m , w a t c h h i m , t h a t m a n o n a hill w h o s e spirit I s a w e t sack f l a p p i n g a b o u t t h e k n e e s o f t i m e . H e lives t h a t his little fields m a y stay fertile w h e n his o w n b o d y Is spread in the b o t t o m of a ditch u n d e r t w o coulters crossed in Christ's N a m e . H e w a s s u s p i c i o u s i n his y o u t h a s a rat n e a r s t r a n g e b r e a d , W h e n girls l a u g h e d ; w h e n t h e y s c r e a m e d h e k n e w t h a t m e a n t T h e c r y o f fillies i n s e a s o n . H e c o u l d n o t w a l k T h e easy r o a d t o d e s t i n y . H e d r e a m t T h e innocence of y o u n g brambles to h o o k e d treachery. O t h e grip, O t h e grip of irregular fields! No m a n escapes. I t c o u l d n o t b e t h a t b a c k o f t h e hills l o v e w a s free A n d ditches straight. N o m o n s t e r h a n d lifted u p c h i l d r e n a n d p u t d o w n a p e s As here. 'O G o d if I had b e e n wiser!' T h a t w a s his sigh l i k e t h e b r o w n b r e e z e i n t h e thistles. H e l o o k s t o w a r d s his h o u s e a n d h a g g a r d . ' O G o d i f I h a d b e e n wiser!' B u t n o w a c r u m p l e d leaf f r o m t h e w h i t e t h o r n b u s h e s D a r t s like a f r i g h t e n e d r o b i n , a n d t h e f e n c e S h o w s t h e g r e e n o f after-grass t h r o u g h a little w i n d o w , A n d h e k n o w s t h a t his o w n h e a r t i s c a l l i n g his m o t h e r a liar G o d ' s t r u t h i s life - e v e n t h e g r o t e s q u e s h a p e s o f his f o u l e s t f i r e . T h e h o r s e lifts its h e a d a n d c r a n e s Through the whins and stones T o lip late p a s s i o n i n t h e c r a w l i n g c l o v e r . I n t h e g a p t h e r e ' s a b u s h w e i g h t e d w i t h b o u l d e r s like m o r a l i t y , T h e fools o f life b l e e d i f t h e y c l i m b o v e r . T h e w i n d leans f r o m B r a d y ' s , a n d t h e c o l t s f o o t l e a v e s are h o l e d w i t h rust, Rain tills t h e c a r t - t r a c k s a n d t h e s o l e - p l a t e g r o o v e s ; A y e l l o w s u n reflects in D o n a g h m o y n e T h e p o i g n a n t light i n p u d d l e s s h a p e d b y h o o v e s

C o m e w i t h m e , I m a g i n a t i o n , i n t o this i r o n h o u s e A n d w e will w a t c h from the d o o r w a y the years r u n back, A n d w e w i l l k n o w w h a t a p e a s a n t ' s left h a n d w r o t e o n t h e p a g e B e easy, O c t o b e r . N o c a c k l e h e n , h o r s e n e i g h , t r e e s o u g h , d u c k quack. from III P o o r P a d d y M a g u i r e , a f o u r t e e n - h o u r day H e w o r k e d for y e a r s . I t w a s h e t h a t lit t h e f i r e A n d boiled the kettle and gave the cows their hay. H i s m o t h e r tall h a r d as a P r o t e s t a n t spire C a m e d o w n t h e stairs b a r e f o o t a t t h e k e t t l e - c a l l A n d t a l k e d t o h e r s o n s h a r p l y : ' D i d y o u let T h e hens out, you?' She had a v e n o m o u s drawl A n d a w i z e n e d face l i k e m o t h - e a t e n l e a t h e r e t t e . T w o b l a c k cats p e e p e d b e t w e e n t h e b a n i s t e r s A n d gloated over the bacon-fizzling pan. O u t s i d e t h e w i n d o w s h o w e d tin canisters. T h e s n i p e o f D a w n fell l i k e a w h i r r i n g s t o n e A n d Patrick on a headland stood alone. T h e pull is on t h e traces, it is M a r c h A n d a cold black w i n d is b l o w i n g from D u n d a l k . T h e t w i s t i n g s o d rolls o v e r o n h e r b a c k T h e v i r g i n s c r e a m s b e f o r e t h e irresistible s o c k . N o w o r r y o n M a g u i r e ' s m i n d this d a y E x c e p t t h a t h e f o r g o t t o b r i n g his m a t c h e s . ' H o p back there Polly, h o y back, w o a , w a e ' , F r o m e v e r y s e c o n d hill a n e i g h b o u r w a t c h e s W i t h all t h e s h a r p e n e d i n t e r e s t o f r i v a l r y . Y e t s o m e t i m e s w h e n the sun c o m e s t h r o u g h a gap These m e n k n o w G o d the Father in a tree: T h e H o l y Spirit is t h e rising sap, A n d Christ will b e t h e g r e e n leaves that will c o m e At Easter from t h e sealed a n d g u a r d e d t o m b . . . XIV W e m a y c o m e o u t i n t o t h e O c t o b e r reality, I m a g i n a t i o n , T h e s l e e t y w i n d n o l o n g e r slants t o t h e b l a c k hill w h e r e M a g u i n A n d Ins m e n are n o w c o l l e c t i n g t h e s c a t t e r e d h a r n e s s a n d basket

T h e d o g s i t t i n g o n a w i s p o f d r y stalks Watches t h e m through the shadows. ' B a c k i n , b a c k i n . ' O n e talks t o t h e h o r s e a s t o a b r o t h e r . M a g u i r e h i m s e l f is p a t t i n g a p o t a t o - p i t against t h e w e a t h e r An old m a n fondling a n e w - p i l e d grave: 'Joe, I h o p e y o u didn't forget to hide the spade, F o r t h e r e ' s r o g u e s i n t h e t o w n l a n d . H i d e i t flat i n a f u r r o w . I t h i n k we o u g h t to be finished by t o - m o r r o w . ' T h e i r voices t h r o u g h t h e darkness s o u n d like voices from a cave, A d u l l t h u d d i n g far a w a y , futile, f e e b l e , far a w a y , First c o u s i n s t o t h e g h o s t s o f t h e t o w n l a n d . A l i g h t stands i n a w i n d o w . M a r y A n n e H a s t h e t a b l e set a n d t h e t e a - p o t w a i t i n g i n t h e ashes. S h e g o e s t o t h e d o o r a n d listens a n d t h e n s h e calls F r o m the top of the haggard-wall: 'What's keeping you A n d t h e c o w s t o b e m i l k e d a n d all t h e o t h e r w o r k t h e r e ' s t o d o ? ' 'All right, all right, W e ' l l n o t stay h e r e all n i g h t . ' Applause, applause, T h e c u r t a i n falls. Applause, applause F r o m t h e h o m i n g carts a n d t h e t r e e s A n d t h e b a w l i n g c o w s a t t h e gates. F r o m the screeching water-hens A n d the mill-race h e a v y w i t h the L a m m a s floods c u r v i n g o v e r the weir. A t r a i n a t t h e s t a t i o n b l o w i n g off s t e a m A n d the hysterical laughter of the defeated e v e r y w h e r e . N i g h t , a n d t h e futile cards a r e shuffled a g a i n . M a g u i r e s p r e a d s his legs o v e r t h e i m p o t e n t c i n d e r s t h a t w a k e n o manhood now A n d h e h a r d l y l o o k s t o see w h i c h c a r d i s t r u m p . I lis sister t i g h t e n s h e r legs a n d h e r lips a n d frizzles u p L i k e t h e w i c k o f a n oil-less l a m p . T h e c u r t a i n falls Applause, applause.

M a g u i r e i s n o t afraid o f d e a t h , t h e C h u r c h w i l l l i g h t h i m a c a n d l e T o see his w a y t h r o u g h t h e v a u l t s a n d h e ' l l u n d e r s t a n d t h e Q u a l i t y o f t h e clay t h a t d r i b b l e s o v e r his coffin. H e ' l l k n o w t h e n a m e s o f t h e r o o t s t h a t c l i m b d o w n t o t i c k l e his feet. A n d h e w i l l feel n o different t h a n w h e n h e w a l k e d t h r o u g h Donaghmoyne. If he s t r e t c h e s o u t a h a n d - a w e t c l o d , If he o p e n s his nostrils - a d u n g y s m e l l ; If he o p e n s his eyes o n c e in a m i l l i o n y e a r s T h r o u g h a c r a c k i n t h e c r u s t o f t h e e a r t h h e m a y s e e a face nodding in O r a w o m a n ' s legs. S h u t t h e m a g a i n for t h a t s i g h t i s sin. H e w i l l h a r d l y r e m e m b e r t h a t life h a p p e n e d t o h i m S o m e t h i n g was brighter a m o m e n t . S o m e b o d y sang in the distance. A p r o c e s s i o n passed d o w n a m e s m e r i s e d s t r e e t . H e r e m e m b e r s n a m e s like Easter a n d C h r i s t m a s B y t h e c o l o u r his f i e l d s w e r e . M a y b e he will be b o r n again, a bird of an angel's c o n c e i t T o s i n g t h e g o s p e l o f life T o a m u s i c a s flightily t a n g e n t As a t u n e on an o b o e . A n d t h e serious l o o k o f the f i e l d s will h a v e c h a n g e d t o t h e leer of a h o b o S w a g g e r i n g celestially h o m e t o his t h r e e w i s h e s g r a n t e d . Will that be? will that be? Or is the earth right that laughs h a w - h a w A n d does not believe In an unearthly law. T h e e a r t h t h a t says: Patrick M a g u i r e , the old peasant, can neither be d a m n e d n o r glorified: T h e g r a v e y a r d i n w h i c h h e w i l l lie will b e j u s t a d e e p - d r i l l e d potato-field W h e r e t h e s e e d gets n o c h a n c e t o c o m e t h r o u g h T o t h e fun o f t h e s u n . T h e t o n g u e i n his m o u t h i s t h e r o o t o f a y e w . S i l e n c e , s i l e n c e . The story is d o n e .
W

H e s t a n d s i n t h e d o o r w a y o f his h o u s e A ragged sculpture of the w i n d , O c t o b e r creaks the r o t t e d mattress, T h e b e d p o s t s fall. N o h o p e . N o lust. T h e h u n g r y fiend S c r e a m s t h e a p o c a l y p s e o f clay I n e v e r y c o r n e r o f this l a n d .

T H E TWELFTH OF JULY T h e Twelfth of July, the voice of Ulster speaking, Tart as w e e k - o l d buttermilk from a c h u r n , S u r p r i s i n g t h e t i r e d palates o f t h e s o u t h . I said t o myself: F r o m t h e m w e h a v e m u c h t o l e a r n H a r d business-talk, no mediaeval babble, B u t the s u d d e n knife o f reality r u n n i n g t o the heart W i t h e x p e r i e n c e . T h e p a g e a n t r y o f Scarva R e c a l l e d t h e G r e e k i d e a o f d r a m a t i c art. T h e horse-dealers from the M o y o r Banbridge, T h e Biblical f a r m e r s f r o m R i c h h i l l o r C o l e r a i n e . All t h a t w a s s h a r p , p r e c i s e a n d p u n g e n t f l a v o u r e d A h ! an U l s t e r i m a g i n e d ! F o r h e r e f r o m t h e train At A m i e n s Street c o m e gin-and-bitter blondes, T h e slot m a c h i n e s t h a t g i v e u s all t h e ' a n s w e r s ' , A n d y o u n g m e n o u t o f Ulster w h o will dare To drive a w e d g e in Dublin's L o u n g e Bar panzers.

TARRY FLYNN On an apple-ripe September m o r n i n g T h r o u g h the mist-chill fields I w e n t W i t h a pitch-fork on my shoulder Less for use t h a n for d e v i l m e n t . I h e t h r e s h i n g mill w a s set u p , I k n e w , In C a s s i d y ' s h a g g a r d last n i g h t ,

A n d we o w e d t h e m a day at the threshing S i n c e last y e a r . O it w a s d e l i g h t . T o b e p a y i n g bills o f l a u g h t e r A n d chaffy gossip i n k i n d W i t h w o r k t h r o w n i n t o ballast T h e fantasy-soaring m i n d . As I crossed the w o o d e n bridge I w o n d e r e d As I l o o k e d into the drain If ever a s u m m e r m o r n i n g should find me S h o v e l l i n g u p eels a g a i n . A n d I t h o u g h t of the wasps' nest in the b a n k A n d h o w I got chased o n e day Leaving the drag and the scraw-knife b e h i n d , H o w I c o v e r e d m y face w i t h h a y . T h e w e t leaves o f t h e c o c k s f o o t P o l i s h e d my b o o t s as I W e n t r o u n d b y the glistening bog-holes Lost in u n t h i n k i n g j o y . I'll b e c a r r y i n g b a g s t o - d a y , I m u s e d , T h e best j o b a t t h e mill W i t h p l e n t y o f t i m e t o talk o f o u r l o v e s A s w e w a i t for t h e bags t o f i l l . M a y b e M a r y m i g h t call r o u n d . . . A n d t h e n I c a m e to the haggard gate, A n d I k n e w as I e n t e r e d that I h a d c o m e T h r o u g h fields t h a t w e r e p a r t o f n o e a r t h l y e s t a t e .

A CHRISTMAS C H I L D H O O D I O n e side o f t h e p o t a t o - p i t s w a s w h i t e w i t h frost H o w wonderful that was, h o w wonderful!

Mi

A n d w h e n w e p u t o u r ears t o t h e p a l i n g - p o s t T h e music that came out was magical. T h e light b e t w e e n the r i c k s o f hay and straw W a s a hole in H e a v e n ' s gable. An apple tree W i t h its D e c e m b e r - g l i n t i n g fruit w e s a w 0 you, Eve, w e r e the w o r l d that t e m p t e d m e .

T o eat t h e k n o w l e d g e t h a t g r e w i n clay A n d d e a t h t h e g e r m w i t h i n it! N o w a n d t h e n 1 c a n r e m e m b e r s o m e t h i n g o f t h e gay G a r d e n that was childhood's. Again T h e tracks of cattle to a d r i n k i n g - p l a c e , A g r e e n s t o n e l y i n g s i d e w a y s in a d i t c h O r a n y c o m m o n s i g h t t h e t r a n s f i g u r e d face Of a beauty that the w o r l d did not touch.

II

M y father played t h e m e l o d e o n Outside at o u r gate; T h e r e w e r e stars i n t h e m o r n i n g east A n d t h e y d a n c e d t o his m u s i c . A c r o s s t h e w i l d b o g s his m e l o d e o n called T o L e n n o n s a n d Callans. As I pulled on my trousers in a h u r r y I k n e w s o m e strange t h i n g h a d h a p p e n e d . Outside in the cow-house my mother M a d e the music of milking; T h e l i g h t o f h e r s t a b l e - l a m p w a s a star A n d t h e frost o f B e t h l e h e m m a d e i t t w i n k l e . A w a t e r - h e n screeched in the b o g , M a s s - g o i n g feet C r u n c h e d the wafer-ice on the pot-holes, S o m e b o d y wistfully t w i s t e d t h e b e l l o w s w h e e l .

II

M y child p o e t p i c k e d o u t t h e letters On the grey stone, I n silver t h e w o n d e r o f a C h r i s t m a s t o w n l a n d , T h e w i n k i n g g l i t t e r o f a frosty d a w n . Cassiopeia was over C a s s i d y ' s h a n g i n g hill, I l o o k e d a n d t h r e e w h i n b u s h e s r o d e across T h e horizon - the T h r e e Wise Kings. A n o l d m a n p a s s i n g said: ' C a n ' t he m a k e it talk' T h e m e l o d e o n . I hid in the d o o r w a y A n d tightened the belt of my box-pleated coat. I n i c k e d six n i c k s o n t h e d o o r - p o s t W i t h my penknife's big blade T h e r e w a s a little o n e for c u t t i n g t o b a c c o . A n d I w a s six C h r i s t m a s e s o f a g e . M y father played t h e m e l o d e o n , My m o t h e r milked the cows, A n d I had a prayer like a w h i t e rose p i n n e d On the Virgin Mary's blouse.

FATHER MAT

In a m e a d o w Beside the chapel t h r e e boys w e r e playing football. At the forge d o o r an old m a n was leaning Viewing a h u n t e r - h o e . A m a n could hear I f h e l i s t e n e d t o t h e b r e e z e t h e fall o f w i n g s H o w wistfully t h e s i n - b i r d s c o m e h o m e ! I t w a s C o n f e s s i o n S a t u r d a y , t h e first Saturday in May; the M a y D e v o t i o n s W e r e s p r e a d like leaves t o q u i e t e n

i '

T h e excited armies of conscience. T h e k n i f e o f p e n a n c e fell s o like a b l a d e O f grass t h a t n o o n e w a s afraid. Father M a t came slowly walking, stopping to Stare t h r o u g h gaps a t a n c i e n t I r e l a n d s w e e p i n g I n again w i t h all its u n b a p t i z e d b e a u t y : T h e calm evening, T h e w h i t e t h o r n blossoms, T h e smell f r o m ditches that w e r e n o t Christian. T h e dancer that dances in the hearts of m e n cried: L o o k ! I h a v e s h o w n this t o y o u b e f o r e T h e rags o f l i v i n g s u r p r i s e d T h e j o y i n things y o u c a n n o t forget. H i s h e a v y h a t w a s s q u a r e u p o n his h e a d , Like a Christian Brother's; H i s eyes w e r e a n o l d m a n ' s w a t e r y e y e s , O u t o f his flat n o s e g r e w s p i k y hairs. He was a part of the place, N a t u r a l as a r o u n d s t o n e in a grass field; H e c o u l d w a l k t h r o u g h a c a t t l e fair A n d t h e p e o p l e w o u l d o n l y n o t i c e his o d d spirit t h e r e . H i s c u r a t e p a s s e d on a b i c y c l e He had the h a u g h t y intellectual l o o k O f the m a n w h o n e v e r reads i n b r o o k o r b o o k ; A m a n designed To wear a mitre, T o sit o n c o m m i t t e e s F o r will g r o w s s t r o n g e s t i n t h e e m p t i e s t m i n d . T h e o l d p r i e s t s a w h i m pass And, seeing, saw I limsell a m e d i a e v a l g h o s t . Ahead of him w e n t P o w e r , ( ) n e w h o w a s n o t afraid w h e n t h e s u n o p e n e d a f l o w e r . W h o w a s never a s t o n i s h e d Al .1 sti< K i . l i n e d d o w n a s t r e a m < )i .ii tin u n d y i n g difference in t h e < ornei < > f .1 field. 11

II

T h e Holy Ghost descends A t r a n d o m like t h e m u s e O n wise m a n a n d fool, A n d w h y should poet in the twilight choose? W i t h i n the d i m chapel was the grey M u m b l e of prayer To the Q u e e n of May T h e V i r g i n M a r y w i t h t h e s c h o o l g i r l air. T w o g u t t e r i n g c a n d l e s o n a brass s h r i n e Raised u p o n the wall M o n s t e r s of despair T o terrify d e e p i n t o t h e s o u l . T h r o u g h t h e o p e n d o o r t h e h u m o f rosaries C a m e out and blended with the h o m i n g bees. T h e trees H e a r d n o t h i n g stranger t h a n t h e rain o r t h e w i n d Or the birds B u t deep in their roots they k n e w a seed had sinne In t h e g r a v e y a r d a g o a t w a s n i b b l i n g at a y e w , T h e cobbler's chickens with anxious looks W e r e straggling h o m e t h r o u g h nettles, o v e r graves A y o u n g girl d o w n a hill w a s d r i v i n g c o w s T o a c o r n e r a t t h e g a b l e - e n d o f a roofless h o u s e . C o w s w e r e m i l k e d earlier, T h e supper hurried, H e n s shut in, Horses unyoked, A n d three m e n shaving before the same mirror.
Ill

T h e t r i p o f i r o n tips o n tile H e s i t a t e d u p t h e m i d d l e aisle, H e a d s t h a t w e r e b o w e d g l a n c e d u p t o see

W h o c o u l d t h i s last a r r i v a l b e .

M u r m u r of w o m e n ' s voices from the p o r c h , M e m o r i e s of relations in t h e graveyard. O n the stem Of m e m o r y imaginations blossom. In t h e d i m C o r n e r s i n t h e side seats faces g a t h e r , Lit u p n o w a n d t h e n b y a g u t t e r i n g c a n d l e A n d the ghost of day at the w i n d o w . A s e c r e t l o v e r is s a y i n g T h r e e Hail Marys that she w h o k n o w s T h e ways o f w o m e n will bring C a t h l e e n O ' H a r a (he n a m e s her) h o m e t o h i m . I r o n i c fate! C a t h l e e n h e r s e l f i s s a y i n g T h r e e Hail Marys t o her w h o k n o w s T h e ways o f m e n t o bring S o m e b o d y else h o m e t o h e r 'O may he love m e . ' W h a t is the Virgin M a r y n o w to do?
IV

F r o m a confessional T h e voice of Father Mat's absolving Rises a n d falls l i k e a b r i a r in t h e b r e e z e . A s t h e sins p o u r i n t h e o l d p r i e s t i s t h i n k i n g H i s fields o f fresh grass, his h o r s e s , his c o w s , H i s e a r t h i n t o t h e fires o f P u r g a t o r y . It c o o l s his m i n d . ' T h e y confess t o t h e fields,' h e m u s e d , ' T h e y confess t o t h e fields a n d t h e air a n d t h e s k y ' , A n d f o r g i v e n e s s w a s t h e soft grass o f his m e a d o w b y t h e r i v e r I lis t h o u g h t s w e r e w a l k i n g t h r o u g h i t n o w . I lis h u m a n lips t a l k e d o n : ' M y son, O n l y t h e p o o r i n spirit shall w e a r t h e c r o w n ; Those down ( .111 c r e e p in t h e l o w d o o r ( MI to I l e a v e n ' s f l o o r . '

r.

T h e T e m p t e r had a n o t h e r answer ready: ' A h lad, u p o n t h e r o a d o f life 'Tis best to dance with C h a n c e ' s wife A n d let t h e rains t h a t c o m e i n t i m e Erase t h e footprints of t h e c r i m e . ' T h e dancer that dances in the hearts of m e n T e m p t e d h i m again: ' L o o k ! I h a v e s h o w n y o u this b e f o r e ; F r o m this m o u n t a i n - t o p I h a v e t e m p t e d C h r i s t W i t h w h a t y o u see n o w O f b e a u t y - all t h a t ' s m u s i c , p o e t r y , art In things y o u can t o u c h every day. I broke away A n d r u l e all d o m i n i o n s t h a t are r a r e ; I t o o k w i t h m e all t h e a n s w e r s t o e v e r y p r a y e r T h a t y o u n g m e n a n d girls p r a y for: l o v e , h a p p i n e s s , r i c h e s - ' O Tempter! O Tempter! V As Father Mat walked h o m e V e n u s w a s i n t h e w e s t e r n sky A n d there w e r e voices in the hedges: ' G o d the Gay is not the Wise.' ' T a k e y o u r choice, take y o u r choice,' Called the breeze through the bridge's eye. ' T h e domestic Virgin and H e r Child O r V e n u s w i t h h e r ecstasy.'

ELEGY FOR JIM LARKIN died February 947 N o t w i t h p u b l i c w o r d s c a n his g r e a t n e s s B e t o l d t o c h i l d r e n , for h e w a s m o r e T h a n labour agitator, m o b orator T h e flashing fiery s w o r d m e r e l y w a s w i t n e s s T o t h e sun u s i n g . C r i e d I a r k i n : L o o k !

46

T h e f i e l d s are p r o d u c i n g for y o u a n d t h e t r e e s ; A n d b e y o n d are n o t t h e s e r f s t o c k l a n d , b u t seas Rolling excitement in God's Poetry Book. W h e n t h e full m o o n ' s i n t h e r i v e r t h e g h o s t o f b r e a d M u s t n o t b e i n all y o u r w e a r y t r u d g i n g s h o m e . T h e masts o f o n c e b l a c k galleys will b e c o m e Fir forests u n d e r t h e N o r t h ' s g l i t t e r i n g P l o u g h , A n d the rusty gantries, t h e h e r o i c ahead W i t h m a n the magician w h o m the gods e n d o w . It was thus I heard J i m Larkin shout above T h e c r o w d w h o w o u l d h a v e h i m t u r n aside F r o m t h e d a y ' s s h o c k i n g reality. T h e i r m o r p h i n e p r i d e H i d i n t h e fogs o f u n h o p e a n d w o u l d n o t m o v e T h e s m o k e and the d r u g o f the n e w s p a p e r story; A n d w i t h m o u t h s o p e n t h e y w e r e glad t o stare N o t at a b l a c k b i r d , b u t a m i l l i o n a i r e W h o s e t w o - y e a r - o l d s r a n off w i t h all t h e i r w o r r y T h o u g h b a t o n e d by p o l i c e m e n into Dublin's garbage. J i m Larkin o p e n e d a w i n d o w wide A n d wings flew o u t a n d offered to slow rising things A lift o n t o h i g h altars w i t h p r o u d c a r r i a g e . A n d t h e y s w a y e d a b o v e t h e city i n y o u n g k n o w l e d g e A n d t h e y ate t h e l o a f t h a t n o u r i s h e s g r e a t k i n g s .

EPIC

I h a v e lived in i m p o r t a n t places, times W h e n great events w e r e decided, w h o o w n e d T h a t half a r o o d of r o c k , a n o - m a n ' s land S u r r o u n d e d b y o u r p i t c h f o r k - a r m e d claims. I heard the Dufiys shouting ' D a m n y o u r soul' A n d old M c C a b e stripped to the waist, seen Step the plot defying b l u e cast-steel ' H e r e is the march along these iron stones'. T h a t was t h e y e a r o f t h e M u n i c h b o t h e r . W h i c h Was m o r e important? I inclined T o lost- m y faith iii Ballyrush a n d G o r t i n

i '

Till H o m e r ' s ghost c a m e w h i s p e r i n g t o m y m i n d H e said: I m a d e t h e Iliad f r o m s u c h A local r o w . G o d s m a k e t h e i r o w n i m p o r t a n c e .

INNOCENCE T h e y l a u g h e d at o n e I l o v e d T h e t r i a n g u l a r hill t h a t h u n g U n d e r t h e B i g F o r t h . T h e y said T h a t I was b o u n d e d by the w h i t e t h o r n hedges O f t h e little f a r m a n d d i d n o t k n o w t h e w o r l d . B u t I k n e w t h a t l o v e ' s d o o r w a y t o life Is the same d o o r w a y everywhere. A s h a m e d of w h a t I loved I flung h e r from me and called h e r a ditch A l t h o u g h she was smiling at me w i t h violets. B u t n o w I am back in her briary arms T h e d e w o f a n I n d i a n S u m m e r m o r n i n g lies On bleached potato-stalks W h a t age am I? I d o n o t k n o w w h a t age I a m , I am no m o r t a l age; I k n o w nothing of w o m e n , N o t h i n g o f cities, I c a n n o t die Unless I walk outside these w h i t e t h o r n hedges.

KERR'S A S S W e b o r r o w e d t h e l o a n o f K e r r ' s b i g ass To go to Dundalk with butter, Brought h i m h o m e the evening before the market An exile that night in M u c k e r .

IH

W e h e e l e d u p t h e cart b e f o r e t h e d o o r , We t o o k t h e harness inside T h e straw-stuffed straddle, the b r o k e n b r e e c h i n g W i t h bits o f b u l l - w i r e t i e d ; T h e winkers that had n o c h o k e - b a n d , T h e collar a n d t h e r e i n s . . . In Ealing Broadway, L o n d o n T o w n I n a m e t h e i r several n a m e s U n t i l a w o r l d c o m e s to life M o r n i n g , t h e silent b o g , And the G o d of imagination waking In a M u c k e r fog.

T H E HOSPITAL A y e a r a g o I fell in l o v e w i t h t h e f u n c t i o n a l w a r d ( ) f a c h e s t h o s p i t a l : s q u a r e c u b i c l e s in a r o w Plain c o n c r e t e , w a s h basins - a n art l o v e r ' s w o e , N o t c o u n t i n g h o w the fellow in the next b e d snored. But n o t h i n g w h a t e v e r is by love debarred, T h e c o m m o n and banal h e r heat can k n o w . T h e corrider led to a stairway and b e l o w W.is t h e i n e x h a u s t i b l e a d v e n t u r e o f a g r a v e l l e d y a r d . This is w h a t love does to things: the Rialto Bridge, 1 lit- m a i n g a t e t h a t w a s b e n t by a h e a v y l o r r y , I he scat at t h e b a c k of a s h e d t h a t w a s a s u n t r a p . N a m i n g t h e s e t h i n g s i s t h e l o v e - a c t a n d its p l e d g e ; I HI we must record love's mystery w i t h o u t claptrap, Snatch o u t of time the passionate transitory.

4V

P A D R A I C

F A L L O N

Born Athenry, C o u n t y Galway, 1905. Educated at the Cistercian boarding school in Roscrea, C o u n t y Tipperary. W o r k e d as a customs official in Cavan, W e x f o r d and Dublin. A prolific radio dramatist, he retired to Cornwall, 1967, then to Kinsale, C o u n t y C o r k , 1971. D i e d 1974. If a taste for the exotic and a t e n d e n c y to o v e r w r i t e spoils some of Fallon's p o e m s , at his best he is capable of meditative stamina and pictorial vividness. 'Yeats at A t h e n r y Perhaps' is the sturdiest of a series of troubled explorations of the relevance of the Literary Revival and its O l y m p i a n leader to the ordinary life of Ireland; like ' G u r t e e n ' , it builds its effects on a colloquial naturalism. All but the o p e n i n g p o e m in the selection c o m e from the last decade and a half of Fallon's career.

A FLASK OF B R A N D Y

Y o u , said t h e L i o n w o m a n , Pliz, this e r r a n d , a s n i p e o f b r a n d y F r o m t h e first s h o p . H e r e ' s m o n e y ; A n d for y o u t h i s p e n n y . A n d on m y w a y I saw: I t e m , a c l o w n w h o w a l t z e d o n stilts; A bear saluting w i t h a paw; T w o pairs o f d a n c i n g d o g s i n kilts; E i g h t m i d g e t p o n i e s in a single file, A very piccolo of ponies; T h e n t h e p r i n c e s s far off i n h e r s m i l e ; A n d t h e s e v e n b e a u t i f u l d i s t a n t ladies: And then F a c i n g after t h e b i g b a n d w a g o n , h e T h e b o y in spangles, lonely and p r o f o u n d : B e h i n d h i m the Ringmaster, a redfaced m a n .

50

F o l l o w e d by silence heavy as a w o u n d , And empty. Q u i c k l y a s t w o feet c a n d i d I c o m e b a c k To the L i o n w o m a n with her cognac. Y o u , said t h e L i o n w o m a n ; Pliz t o t h e w i n d o w , said f o r e i g n g u t t e r a l s i n T h e cave of the caravan. I waited, errand done. A n d waiting o n o n e foot saw: Item: a twitching coloured chintz M o v e d by a l e m o n t a l o n e d claw: A n d after a w o m a n w i t h h e r face i n p a i n t s , A t h r o a t t h i c k e n e d i n its r o u n d o f t a n O n s h o u l d e r s sick a n d w h i t e w i t h n a t u r e ; B e h i n d was a pair of b l o o m e r s on a line, B l u e ; a t a b l e w i t h a tin p l a t t e r : M o r e else: A b l a c k e l e c t r i c cat, a s t o v e , a p o t Purring, and a wild Red Indian blanket C r o u c h i n g sidewise on a b u n k ; A n d s o m e e x c i t i n g smell t h a t s t u n k T i l l t h e L i o n w o m a n rising b l o t t e d o u t All b u t a b r e a s t as h e a v y as a sigh T h a t stared at me from o n e bruised eye.

KILTARTAN LEGEND P e n e l o p e pulls h o m e R o g u e - l o r d , artist, w o r l d w a n d e r e r , S i m p l y by s i t t i n g in a h o u s e , Its s t u r d y g e n i u s ; ( ) | .ill sirens t h e m o s t d a n g e r o u s . She'll MI them out, T h e < urious w o n d e r s , the vcntriloquial voi< es,
.1

S p a c i o u s landfalls, t h e w o m e n , b e d s i n t h e b l u e ; Her oceanography T h e garden pond, her compass a knitting needle. T h e arc-lamped earth, she k n o w s , Will b u r n a w a y and she Still p o t t e r a m o n g h e r f l o w e r s w a i t i n g for h i m ; Apollo runs before T o u c h i n g the blossoms, her u n b o r n sons. K n i t t i n g , u n k n i t t i n g at t h e half h e a r d M u s i c o f h e r t a p e s t r y , afraid Of the sunburned body, the organs, the red beard Of the unshipped mighty male H o m e f r o m t h e fairy tale; P r o v i d i n g for h i m All t h a t ' s left o f h e r s h e ties a n d k n o t s Threads everywhere; the luminous house M u s t h o l d a n d will H e r trying warlord h o m e . W i l l she k n o w h i m ? Dignity begs the question that must follow. S h e b e n d s t o t h e w e b w h e r e h e r l o r d ' s face G l i t t e r s b u t has n o f e l l o w A n d h u m b l y , o r m o s t royally, adds h e r o w n .

YEATS AT ATHENRY PERHAPS 1 W e h a d o u r t o w e r s t o o , a large Stone soldiery at bridge and gateway, they W e r e the w h o l e t o w n once; A n d I could have n o d d e d to h i m from the top T e n d r i l o f ivy o r a j a c k d a w ' s n e s t ; B u t I'd n e v e r h e a r d o f h i m , t h e f a m o u s p o e t . W h o lived a s t h e c r o w flies f i f t e e n m i l e s a w a y

C e r t a i n l y h e ' d h a v e t o u c h e d u s c h a n g i n g trains For G o r t , have hours to idle, shared T h e s i l e n c e o f o u r small t o w n shell; M a y b e h e passed m e b y In a n a r r o w - g u t t e d s t r e e t , an a i m l e s s Straying g e n t l e m a n , and I T h e jerseyed fellow driving o u t the cows. O u r s was a sightseeing place that h a d E x h a u s t e d h i s t o r y , b u t o l d w a r s h a d left A dead king and a moat A n d walls still h a l f alive t h a t w a t c h e d F r o m towers with b r o k e n rims. I d o u b t H e b o t h e r e d w i t h u s , all his s i g h t t u r n e d i n ; S o m e p o e m s c o m e b e t t e r w a i t i n g for a t r a i n . A n d that w i n g e d footprint c o u l d have jarred T h e peasant m e t r e s of a street given o v e r To baker, grocer, butcher and T h e t r e a d m i l l o f t h e till. W h a t w o u l d h e t h i n k O f o u r o u t c r o p p i n g sheds, the architecture Of the very necessary animal? A n d little b e t t e r o u r w e a t h e r e d F a m i n e c h a p e l ? But on the eve of M a y he might have found T h i n g s n e a r his h e a r t , F e r t i l i t i e s 1 ) r o p p i n g in; For then from consecrated g r o u n d w e m o v e d T h e V i r g i n t o t h e leafing t r e e s With bonfires, chanting children, the w h o l e w o r k s ; T h e C a n o n h a d n ' t r e a d t h e latest b o o k s ( ) n golden b o u g h s and o d d divinities. ( ) r w o u l d h e h a v e l o o k e d s u p e r i o r , b e e n difficult A b o u t O u r L a d y ' s face, t h e soft Italian I ook of the m i l k i n g m o t h e r , n o t t h e sort T h a t strings t h e w h o l e air like a c a t a p u l t ? Ihis was no moon in w o m e n , no I lnpredi< table lady s a i l i n g I In wavy shell; < >ur. kepi t h e h o u s e and a n s w e r e d t h e < hapel b i l l

13

O r s o w e t h o u g h t o r d i d n ' t t h i n k a t all. D i a n a has h e r s e c r e t s f r o m t h e o a k ; T h e n u n l i k e n i g h t c o m m i t s itself i n s t r o k e s O f barbarous shorthand w h e n the candles die. W h a t ' s fifteen miles? W e c o u l d h a v e r e a d t o g e t h e r T h e s a m e n i g h t s c r i p t , felt t h e v i b r a t i o n s r u n , B o u g h s singing, with the w h o l e south m o v i n g up To stand in a dripping arch of spring. 2 I ' d like t o t h i n k h o w o v e r t h e s h e e p a n d c r o p s , T h e n u t - c r e g g s a n d t h e l o o s e s t o n e walls w e m e t In a m u t u a l hazard of b u r n i n g arrows, b u t I w a s t o o small t h e n , m y w a v e l e n g t h s c a u g h t In a n y t h i n g l o w - d o w n as a h a w t h o r n tree A n d j a m m e d t h e r e for a d a y o r all t h e s u m m e r , T i m e n o object, profession poetry. A n y w a y he w o u l d n ' t have dared a t o w n W h e r e every peeling w i n d o w was an eye; We smiled of course at strangers, p r o u d Of a dead king, the lordly D u n g that s i m m e r e d in the g r o u n d . But I could H a v e walked h i m r o u n d the moat, in Kingsland s h o w n the rock W h e r e t h e c r o w n t o p p l e d f r o m t h e last Irish h e a d A n d a r o y a l f o o t s o l e left a b l o o d y t r a c k . N o , h e ' d h a v e sat d o w n b y t h e l i n e a n d w a i t e d M e l t i n g his bits o f o r e o r w a t c h e d t h e sky J o l t f r o m t h e saltmills o f t h e A t l a n t i c o v e r A t o w n t h a t d i e d s o o f t e n o f t h e rain; W h y m u d d y a feathered foot w h e n a great house waited O v e r i n C o o l e a m o n g the trees ( H e l i k e d his h e r a l d r y a l i v e , w e l l b a i t e d ) W i t h all t h e a m e n i t i e s for M u s e a n d m a n , L e d a ' s k i n g b i r d on a l a k e , a l a w n F o r J u n o ' s p e a c o c k , t r a n q u i l a s a frieze.

5 i

from THREE HOUSES

1 GURTEEN

I h a d no gift for it. It hung out in the welter of the m o o r ; A b l a c k - f a c e d c o u n t r y s t a r i n g in All d a y . N e v e r d i d t h e s u n E x p l o d e w i t h f l o w e r s i n t h e d a r k vases O f t h e w i n d o w s . T h e fall w a s w r o n g A n d there was uplifted the striking n o r t h Before the door. W e l i v e d i n t h e flintlights o f a c a v e r n floor. I t w a s e n e m y c o u n t r y t o o , t h e rafts o f t h e l o w Fields f o u n d e r i n g . E v e r y d a y t h e l a t c h Lifted t o s o m e c a t a s t r o p h e , s u c h a s A foal d e a d in an o u t f i e l d , a calf lost In a m u d - s u c k , a h e n laying w i l d in t h e rushes, A b u l l o c k strayed, a g o o s e g o n e w i t h t h e fox; T h e epic, if any, going on too long. N i l t h e g l o r y i n it, n u l l t h e p r o f i t ; I t w a s t o o b i g for m e a n d full o f t h r e a t . A p l a c e t h a t g l u g g e d g r e e n i n t h e vast e g g O f t h e w e a t h e r , t o o littered w i t h rains And with m i n o r stone-age tragedies like getting w e t Feet in t h e g o o s e p a d d o c k w a t c h i n g A n a n g e l , y e s , i n t h e air, i n t h e d u s k , t a k i n g A rose petal face o u t o f n o t h i n g i n p a r t i c u l a r , I ust h a p p e n i n g b i g o u t of a g l i t t e r , 111law.ire o l m e o r t h e b l a c k - a v i s e d c o u n t r y w h e r e T h e h a l l - w h e e l ol the day was b o g g i n g d o w n .

Certainly it could have been the m o o n . A n d t h o u g h I prefer to think otherwise N o t h i n g h a p p e n e d i n t h e w a y o f ecstasy. A n d I t o o k i n d o o r s m y g a w k y c h i l d h o o d , still U n m e a s u r e d , through m u d and the yard m i d d e n T h a t was acting up and c o m i n g into the kitchen W i t h the milkers, with the m e n , with the weather, Feeling as ever that the earth is outside m a t t e r T r y i n g to get in, to get i n t o t h e very centre S w a m p t h e s u n f l o w e r s a n d s t o n e circles A n d all t h a t spirals a n d w i n g s u p , t o b r i n g T h e tiller b a c k o n t h e o l d c o m p o s t h e a p , D u n g value. Petering out L i k e this f a t h e r - f i g u r e a t t h e fire C r u m b l i n g into space, w h o was s o m e t h i n g o n c e , W h o w a s t h e sage h e r e a n d t h e r e a s o n , w h o raised T h e roof, b e g o t t h e t r e e , H e d g e d the apple and built the causeway d o w n For the postman w h o never comes, w h o touched T h e h a r s h sex o f t h e e a r t h t h a t n e v e r b l o o m s , A n d w a s g e n t l e d b y this w o m a n w h o s t a n d s i n t h e d o o r T h e mistress o f a f e w i r o n p o t s , W i t h the bogface l o o k i n g in and the barbarous furrows. I tell o f m y a n g e l a n d t h e b r i g h t t h i n g i s lost In the c u d of c o w s , in the farming day, N e v e r t o b l o o m a g a i n a n d w a s h t h e air T o w a r d s C l o n k e e n C a r l e . I sit d o w n b y t h e fire A n d b u i l d m y n i g h t l y s t o c k a d e i n t h e ash W i t h an old catalogue, A r m y & N a v y Stores, A n d polish t w o pennies bright

56

W h i l e earth and day go u n d e r . B u o y e d up I n t h e i r b u n d l e s o n t h e n i g h t w a v e are t h e p l o v e r s , Blown with the sweet pith of their bones over, the m e n Drift off t o visit o t h e r o u t p o s t s o f M a n in nameless townlands, m o o n - s w o l l e n damps. T h e t w o o l d p e o p l e sit i t o u t , A n d h u m p e d in the very posture of the w o m b On a small s t o o l I r i d e it t o o , T h e dull incessant siege, on the black o r b T h e epic, if any, going on t o o long.

A BIT OF BRASS A h o r n h u n g on an oak; A n d he, the big overplus, the hero Destined, sounds the famous note, invokes Cascading Gods and His o w n death boat. I d i d lift A b i t o f b a t t e r e d brass o n c e t o m y m o u t h , M a y 1 9 1 5 , after A day's rain I n t h e t o w n w a l l e d field w h e r e t h e V o l u n t e e r s Drilled; T h a t e v e n i n g t h e w e t o v e r h a n g h a d d a u n t e d all, Bugler and mate Gossiped u n d e r a leaking branch, sounding A n o c c a s i o n a l call, Joe E g a n , J o s i e R o o n e y ; I )ear P o s t e r i t y , I w a s t h e r e . Echoes h u n g Solidly i n t h e d r o w n e d g r e e n b e e c h t r e e s , I lardly s w i n g i n g ; ( all aftci < all b r o u g h l no o n e to t h e field, s/

T h a t i s n o m a n alive; T h e m a t e s gave up and I p u r l o i n e d t h e thin: S q u a w k , a c o u p l e of fancy tootles, T h e n out of Me minus It came, the soaring Thing; Just once. It c o u l d be it still h a n g s In the M a y over Leonards and the P o u n d Walk, just waiting T h o s e f e l l o w s , t h e l o n g striders Gods or m e n T o t a k e t h e field.

58

B R I A N

C O F F E Y

Born D u n Laoghaire, C o u n t y Dublin, 1905. Educated at C l o n g o w e s W o o d College and University College Dublin. A b a n d o n e d science for philosophy in Paris in early 1930s. Lived in England during the Second W o r l d War. D o c t o r a t e in philosophy from Institut C a t h o l i q u e , Paris, 1947. Lectured in philosophy at the University of St Louis, Missouri, from that year until 1952, w h e n he returned to England. T a u g h t mathematics in L o n d o n schools until 1972. Lived in S o u t h a m p t o n until his death in 1995. Formally, Coffey was perhaps the most anti-traditional of the group of polyglot y o u n g poets - Beckett, Coffey, Devlin, G e o r g e Reavey, Niall Sheridan and Niall M o n t g o m e r y - w h o gathered r o u n d M a c G r e e v y in the 1930s. T h e best of his early w o r k shakes off echoes of Eliot and Pound to pioneer the minimalist lyric m o d e perfected by Beckett after the Second W o r l d War. Eschewing what he called 'the aeolian flatulence of tail-end r h y m e ' , Coffey explores philosophical aspects of themes such as exile, interpersonal responsibility and the artistic act in a rhythmically chaste free verse. T h e selections c o m e from the 1970s and 1980s, the most various and prolific decades of a lengthy career.

from DEATH OF HEKTOR 6 I lomer w h e r e b o r n w h e r e buried of w h o m the son His w o r k

what journeys u n d e r t a k e n n o t k n o w n A h a r p he uses

a b i d e s w i t n e s s t o u n f a l t e r i n g sad gaze c o n s t r a i n e d b a c k g r o u n d for verses s u n g not masked I l c p a r e d n o fingernails n o t i n d i f f e r e n t

I iglu w e s u p p o s e o n c e h a d e n t e r e d e y e s t o b r a n d m e m o r y w i t h n o o n ' s e x a c t flame o f s u n m i r r o r e d i n w i n d - s t i r r e d sea 111.M k night for d e a t h C o l o u r s of m o r n i n g e v e n i n g for life t h e lose t h e g l a u c o u s t h e a m e t h y s t i n e w a v e - w o r k c a r p e t i n g m a i m e d a n a t o m y bla< k w h i t e red of m a n at w a r i i i . m i ' , t h e w o m e n k e e n i n g patient e t h e e m p t i e d hearts

59

H i s ears o p e n t o s p o k e n w o r d a n d w o r d s d o w n t i m e like w i n d - b l o w n sand w o r d s o f t r i u m p h u n s l e e p i n g e n m i t i e s w o u n d - u p spells malice swirl o f s o u n d c o n t i n u a l m i x e d i n a p e r f e c t e a r s u r f a c i n g c o h e r e n t t r u e r t h a n h i s t o r y all a n d e v e r y t h i n g

P r u d e n t H o m e r w h o s u r v i v e d t o m a k e his p o e m s did he k e e p unsaid w o r d l y in i n n e r m o s t anguished heart w h a t w o u l d n o t h a v e p l e a s e d his c l i e n t b a n q u e t e r s n o t reached by r e s o n a n c e t h e hearts of self-approving lords y e t a t last m i g h t r e a c h o u r r a d d l e d selves

from FOR W H A T FOR W H O M U N W A N T E D 1 A n d w h e r e n o s n o w had fallen to cover just sleeping earth where no green awakening promised h i g h w a y w i t h sun dance laughter in s u c h a m a t t g r e y p l a c e of unexpectant waiting b a c k w a r d staring t h o s e saffron w h i t e a n d p u r p l e reflected f r o m bright eyes lit u p t h a t d u s t a n d p a t i e n c e waste and e m p t y game for w h a t i t w a s S u d d e n l y h e w a s a s n o w field suddenly bright flowers stirred suddenly a w o r l d was ready for h e r w a l k i n g t h r o u g h .

C o n s i d e r his s o n g N e v e r to have seen never to have given never to have taken Ever vain h o m i n g ever w h a t is n e w and not her Ever the torn heart scribed ' Y o u ' N e v e r e n o u g h seen never e n o u g h given never enough taken N e v e r departure never what is n e w and not her Ever no change s a y i n g all w a y s 'You'

(.1

S A M U E L

B E C K E T T

Born Foxrock, Dublin, 1906. Educated at Portora Royal School, Enniskillen, and Trinity College Dublin. Succeeded M a c G r e e v y as Trinity lecteur at Ecole N o r m a l e S u p n e u r e , Paris, 1929. T a u g h t m o d e r n languages at Trinity, 1 9 3 0 - 2 . Abruptly left Ireland, 1932. Settled Pans, 1937. Involved in Resistance. Fled to south of France, 1942, returning to Paris after the war. T h e major fiction (Molloy, Malone Dies, The Unnameable) and drama {Waitingfor Godot, Endgame) written first in French, then in English, 1 9 4 6 - 5 6 . N o b e l Prize for Literature, 1969. D i e d 1989. Beckett's earliest p o e m s play grotesque variations on modernist allusivencss. A sparer, m o r e elliptical idiom makes its appearance in the mid-1950s in pieces like 'Cascando'. T h a t p o e m ' s uncharacteristic afflatus finds no e c h o in the austere (originally French) lyrics of the later 1940s, t h o u g h even these are notably free of the bleak irony of the novels and plays. T h e radio playlet Words and Music was composed in English in 1961, and 'Roundelay' in 1976.

CASCANDO
1

w h y not merely the despaired of occasion of wordshed is it n o t better abort than be barren t h e h o u r s after y o u a r e g o n e a r e s o l e a d e n t h e y will a l w a y s start d r a g g i n g t o o s o o n the grapples clawing blindly the b e d of w a n t bringing up the b o n e s the old loves s o c k e t s filled o n c e w i t h eyes like y o u r s all a l w a y s i s i t b e t t e r t o o s o o n t h a n n e v e r t h e b l a c k w a n t s p l a s h i n g t h e i r faces s a y i n g again n i n e days n e v e r floated t h e l o v e d

62

nor nine months n o r n i n e lives 2 saying again i f y o u d o n o t t e a c h m e I shall n o t l e a r n s a y i n g a g a i n t h e r e is a last e v e n o f last t i m e s last t i m e s o f b e g g i n g last t i m e s o f l o v i n g of k n o w i n g not knowing pretending a last e v e n of last t i m e s of s a y i n g i f y o u d o n o t l o v e m e I shall n o t b e l o v e d i f I d o n o t l o v e y o u I shall n o t l o v e t h e c h u r n o f stale w o r d s i n t h e h e a r t a g a i n love love love thud of the old plunger pestling the unalterable whey of words terrified again of not loving of loving and not you of being loved and not by you of k n o w i n g not knowing pretending pretending I a n d all t h e o t h e r s t h a t will l o v e y o u if they love you
3

unless t h e y love y o u

' m y w a y is in t h e sand flowing' my w a y is in t h e sand flowing b e t w e e n the shingle and the d u n e t h e s u m m e r rain r u n s o n m y lile

i. \

o n m e m y life h a r r y i n g f l e e i n g t o its b e g i n n i n g t o its e n d my peace is there in the receding mist w h e n I m a y cease f r o m t r e a d i n g t h e s e l o n g s h i f t i n g thresholds a n d live t h e space o f a d o o r that o p e n s and shuts

' w h a t w o u l d I d o w i t h o u t this w o r l d faceless i n c u r i o u s ' w h a t w o u l d I d o w i t h o u t this w o r l d faceless i n c u r i o u s w h e r e t o b e lasts b u t a n i n s t a n t w h e r e e v e r y i n s t a n t spills i n t h e v o i d t h e i g n o r a n c e o f h a v i n g b e e n w i t h o u t this w a v e w h e r e i n t h e e n d b o d y a n d s h a d o w t o g e t h e r are engulfed w h a t w o u l d I d o w i t h o u t this s i l e n c e w h e r e t h e m u r m u r s d i e t h e p a n t i n g s t h e frenzies t o w a r d s s u c c o u r t o w a r d s l o v e w i t h o u t this sky t h a t soars a b o v e its ballast d u s t w h a t w o u l d I do w h a t I did yesterday and the day before p e e r i n g o u t o f m y d e a d l i g h t l o o k i n g for a n o t h e r w a n d e r i n g like m e e d d y i n g far f r o m all t h e l i v i n g in a c o n v u l s i v e space a m o n g the voices voiceless that t h r o n g my hiddenness

from W O R D S AND MUSIC A g e is w h e n to a m a n H u d d l e d o ' e r the ingle S h i v e r i n g for t h e h a g T o p u t t h e p a n in t h e b e d A n d bring the toddy S h e c o m e s i n t h e ashes W h o loved could not be w o n Or w o n not loved
64

Or some other trouble C o m e s i n t h e ashes Like in that old light T h e face i n t h e ashes T h a t o l d starlight O n the earth again.

ROUNDELAY o n all t h a t s t r a n d at e n d o f d a y steps sole s o u n d l o n g sole s o u n d u n t i l u n b i d d e n stay then no sound o n all t h a t s t r a n d long no sound until u n b i d d e n go steps sole s o u n d l o n g sole s o u n d o n all t h a t s t r a n d at e n d o f d a y

J O H N

H E W I T T

Born Belfast, 1907. Educated at Methodist College and Q u e e n ' s University Belfast. W o r k e d for twenty-seven years in Belfast M u s e u m and Art Gallery. Passed over for post of director in 1953, apparently because of his left-wing, anti-sectarian politics. M o v e d to C o v e n t r y as director of the H e r b e r t Art Gallery and M u s e u m , 1957. Retired 1972 and returned to Belfast. Died 1987. H e w i t t ' s assiduously crafted, if formally u n a d v e n t u r o u s verse counters the grand narratives of imperialism and nationalism with a democratic, secular and yet recognisably Protestant empiricism. 'I may appear Planter's G o t h i c , ' he w r o t e in 1953, 'but there is a r o u n d t o w e r s o m e w h e r e inside, and needled through every sentence I utter.' Identifying with the radicalism of the Presbyterian U n i t e d Irishmen and of the e i g h t e e n t h - and n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y R h y m i n g Weavers of Antrim and D o w n (whose w o r k he anthologised), H e w i t t struggles to keep viable a submerged Ulster tradition of tolerance and faith in h u m a n progress. His Georgian m a n n e r is deceptive: he is capable of considerable t o u g h - m i n d e d n e s s , as in ' T h e C o l o n y ' , w h e r e he sustains an elaborate analogy b e t w e e n R o m a n colonists and the planters of Ulster. He can also disarm criticism: 'A Local Poet' offers itself alternatively as a wry critique of the neat closures of his style or as a selfrebuke for the reticence of his w o r k on the discrimination against Catholics in the years leading up to the Troubles.

from FREEHOLD
from I I T H E L O N E L Y H E A R T

O n c e i n a seaside t o w n w i t h t i m e t o kill, t h e w i n d l e s s w i n t e r - d a y l i g h t e b b i n g chill, t h e cafes s h u t till J u n e , t h e s h o p b l i n d s d r a w n , only o n e p u b yet o p e n w h e r e a m a n t r u n d l e d his b a r r e l s off a d r a y w i t h c a r e , a n d t w o m e n t a l k i n g , small across t h e s q u a r e , I t u r n e d from broad street, d o w n a red-brick r o w , past p r a m s i n p a r l o u r s a n d i n f r e q u e n t s h o w

66

o f t h r u s t i n g b u l b t i p s , till h i g h steps a n d p o r c h a n d rigid s t a t u e signalised a c h u r c h . I c l i m b e d t h e g r a n i t e past S a i n t P a t r i c k ' s k n e e s , s a w cross i n s t o n e , b e f i n g e r e d , r i n g e d w i t h g r e a s e , a n d w a t e r in a s t o u p w i t h oily skin, s w u n g d o o r o n stall o f b o o k l e t s a n d w e n t i n to t h e d i m stained-glass cold interior b e t w e e n l o w p e w s a l o n g a m a r b l e floor t o w h e r e t h e c a n d l e s b u r n e d , still k e e p i n g p a c e w i t h u g l y - c o l o u r e d Stations of the Cross. T w o children tiptoed in and prayed awhile. A s h a b b y w o m a n in a f a d e d s h a w l c a m e h i r p l i n g past m e t h e n , a n d c r u m p l e d d o w n , crossing herself and m u m b l i n g m o n o t o n e . I s t o o d a n d g a z e d across t h e altar rail a t t h e tall w i n d o w s , c o l d a n d w i n t e r p a l e ; Christ and His M o t h e r , Christ and Lazarus, Christ w a t c h i n g Martha bustle r o u n d the house, Christ c r o w n e d , w i t h sceptre and a blessing hand. I c o u n t e d seven candles on the stand; a b o x o f m a t c h e s o f familiar b r a n d lay o n a tray. I t s o m e h o w s e e m e d m y r i g h t t o p a y m y p e n n y a n d set u p m y l i g h t , n o t t o this c o l o u r e d C h r i s t n o r t o H i s M o t h e r , b u t single f l a m e t o s w a y w i t h all t h e o t h e r small e a r n e s t flames against t h e c r o w d i n g g l o o m w h i c h seemed that year descending on o u r time, s u p p r e s s e d t h e fancy, s m i l e d a c y n i c t h o u g h t , turned clicking heel on marble and w e n t out. N o t this m y f a t h e r s ' faith: t h e i r walls a r e b a r e ; t h e i r c o m f o r t ' s all w i t h i n , i f a n y w h e r e . 1 h a d g o n e t h e r e a v a c a n t h o u r t o pass, t o see t h e s c u l p t u r e a n d a d m i r e t h e glass, but left as I h a d c o m e , a p r o t e s t a n t , a n d all u n c o n s c i o u s o f m y y a w n i n g w a n t ; t o o m u c h i n t e n t o n w h a t t o criticise t o give m y heart t h e r o o m t o realise thai whit h e n d u r e s t h e tides ol t u n e so l o n g
i . 1 1 1 1 1 < >i

be always a b s o l u t e l y w r o n g ;

n o t e v e n w i t h a friendly t h o u g h t or h u m a n for t h e t w o c h i l d r e n a n d t h e p r a y i n g w o m a n . T h e years s i n c e t h e n h a v e p r o v e d I s h o u l d h a v e s t a y e d a n d m e r c y m i g h t h a v e t o u c h e d m e till I p r a y e d . For n o w I scorn no m a n ' s or child's belief in any symbol that m a y succour grief i f w e r e m e m b e r w h e n c e life first a r o s e and h o w w i t h i n us yet that river flows; a n d h o w t h e fabled s h a p e s i n d r e a m ' s d e e p sea still e v i d e n c e o u r c o n t i n u i t y w i t h being's seamless g a r m e n t , w e b a n d t h r e a d . O w i n d b l o w n grass u p o n t h e m o u n d e d d e a d , O s e e d i n c r e v i c e o f t h e frost-split r o c k , t h e p o w e r t h a t fixed y o u r r o o t shall t a k e u s b a c k , t h o u g h e n d l e s s l y t h r o u g h a e o n s w e are t h r u s t as l u m i n o u s or unreflecting dust.

T H E RAM'S H O R N I have t u r n e d to the landscape because m e n disappoint m e : t h e t r u n k o f a t r e e i s p r o u d ; w h e n t h e w o o d m e n fell it, it still has a c o n t a i n e d i o n i c s o l e m n i t y : i t i s a r o u n d e d e v e n t w i t h o u t t h e n e e d t o tell it. I have never been compelled to turn away from the dawn b e c a u s e i t carries t r e a s o n b e h i n d its w a k e n e d face: even the horned ram, glowering over the bog hole, t h o u g h s y m b o l o f e v i l , w i l l s t e p t h r o u g h t h e b l o w n grass w i t h grace. A n i m a l , plant, or insect, stone or water, are, every m i n u t e , themselves; they behave by law. I a m n o t r e q u i r e d t o d i s c o v e r m o t i v e s for t h e m , o r strip m y h e a r t t o f o r g i v e t h e rat i n t h e s t r a w . 1 live m y b e s t i n t h e l a n d s c a p e , b e i n g a t ease t h e r e ; t h e o n l y t r o u b l e I find I h a v e b r o u g h t in my h a n d
68

S e e , I let it fall w i t h a r u s t l e of s t e m s in t h e n e t t l e s , a n d n e v e r for a m o m e n t s u p p o s e t h a t t h e y u n d e r s t a n d .

THE C O L O N Y First c a m e t h e l e g i o n s , t h e n t h e c o l o n i s t s , p r o v i n c i a l s , landless c i t i z e n s , a n d s o m e c a m p - f o l l o w e r s o f restless g e n e r a l s c o n t e n t n o w o n l y w i t h t h e least o f w a r s . A m o n g this r a b b l e , s o m e t o feel m o r e free b e y o n d t h e r e a d y w h i m o f C a e s a r ' s fist; for c o n s c i e n c e ' sake t h e b e s t o f t h e s e , b u t o t h e r s because their debts h a d t o n g u e s , o n e reckless m a n , a t a x a b s c o n d e r w i t h a sack of c o i n .

W i t h t h e s e , y o u n g l a w clerks skilled (with c h a r t a n d stylus, t h e i r b o x e s c r a m m e d w i t h lease-scrolls d u l y m a r k e d

W h e n t h e y ' d surveyed the land, t h e y g a v e t h e r i c h e r tillage, t r a c t b y t r a c t , from the great captains d o w n to m e n - a t - a r m s , s o m e of the sprawling rents to be retained by C a e s a r ' s mistresses in t h e i r far villas. W e p l a n t e d little t o w n s t o g a r r i s o n t h e h e a v i n g c o u n t r y , h e a p i n g walls o f e a r t h a n d k e e p i n g all o u r cattle close a t h a n d ; t h e n , t h r u s t i n g n o r t h a n d w e s t , w e felled t h e t r e e s , selling t h e m off t h e foothills, at a s t r o k e m a k i n g quick profits, s m o k i n g o u t t h e nests o f t h e b a r b a r i a n t r i b e s m e n , clan b y c l a n , who h u n k e r e d in their blankets, biding chance, till, u n o b s e r v e d , t h e y s l i t h e r d o w n a n d r u n with torch and blade a m o n g the frontier huts w h e n guards were n o d d i n g , or w h e n shining corn b a d e s w o r d - h a n d g r i p t h e sickle. people trembled T h e r e was o n c e .1 t e r r i b l e ycai w h e n , h u d d l e d in >iu t o w n s ,
IIly as

the beat o n s ran

f r o m hill t o hill across t h e c o u n t r y s i d e , c a l l i n g t h e dispossessed t o lift t h e i r s t a n d a r d s . T h e r e was great slaughter t h e n , m a n , w o m a n , child, w i t h fire a n d pillage o f o u r t i m b e r e d h o u s e s ; w e h a d t o b u i l d i n s t o n e for e v e r after. T h a t t e r r o r d o g s us; b a c k o f all o u r t h o u g h t t h e t h r e a t b e h i n d t h e d r e a m , t h o s e b e a c o n s flare, a n d w e r u n h e a d l o n g , s c r e a m i n g i n o u r fear; fear q u i c k e n e d b y t h e m e m o r y o f guilt for w e b e g a n t h e p l u n d e r - n a k e d m e n still h a v e t h e i r h o u s e h o l d g o d s a n d h o l y p l a c e s , a n d w h a t a p e o p l e l o v e s i t will d e f e n d . W e t o o k their temples from t h e m and forbade t h e m for m a n y y e a r s , t o w o r s h i p t h e i r s t r a n g e i d o l s . T h e y gathered secret, d e e p in the d r i p p i n g glens, chanting their prayers before a lichened rock. W e t o o k t h e k i n d l i e r soils. I t h a d b e e n t h e i r s , this p a t i e n t , t e m p e r a t e , s l o w , i n d i f f e r e n t , crop-yielding, crop-denying, in-neglectquickly-returning-to-the-nettle-and-bracken, s o d d e n and friendly land. W e t o o k i t from t h e m . We laboured hard and stubborn, draining, planting, till h a l f t h e c o u n t r y t o o k its s h a p e f r o m u s . O n l y a m o n g t h e hills w i t h h a r e a n d k e s t r e l will y o u o b s e r v e w h a t o n c e this l a n d w a s like b e f o r e w e m a d e i t fat for h u m a n u s e all b u t t h e forests, all b u t t h e tall t r e e s I c o u l d i n v e n t a l e g e n d of t h o s e t r e e s , and h o w their creatures, dryads, hamadryads, fled f r o m t h e c o p s e s , h i d i n t h o r n y b u s h e s , a n d g r e w a c r o o k e d a n d m a l i g n a n t folk, p l o t t i n g a n d w a i t i n g for a b i t t e r r e v e n g e on their despoilers. So o u r troubled t h o u g h t is from e n c h a n t m e n t s of the old tree magic, b u t I am n o t a sick a n d h a u n t e d m a n . . . T e a m s of the t a m e r natives we e m p l o y e d t o h e w a n d c h a w , but d i d not call t h e m slaves.
/II

S o m e say this w a s o u r e r r o r . O t h e r s c l a i m w e w e r e t o o slow t o m a k e t h e m citizens; w e m i g h t have m a d e t h e m Caesar's bravest legions. T h i s is a m a t t e r for h i s t o r i a n s , or old beards in the Senate to w a g over, n o t p e r t i n e n t to us these m a n y years. B u t here and there the land was p o o r and starved, w h i c h , t h o u g h w e m a p p e d , w e did not occupy, l e a v i n g t h e n a t i v e s , o u t o f laziness i n o u r d e m a n d i n g it, t o h o l d u n l e a s e d t h e m a r s h y q u a r t e r s , fens, t h e b r o k e n hills, a n d all t h e r o u g h e r places w h e r e t h e w h i n still t h r u s t f r o m l i m e s t o n e w i t h its c r a c k i n g p o d s . T h e y multiplied and came with open hands, b e g g i n g a crust because their land was p o o r , a n d t h e y w e r e m a n y ; s q u a t t i n g a t o u r gates, till o u r t o w n s g r e w a n d t h r e w t h e m h o v e l l e d lanes w h i c h t h e y i n h a b i t still. Y o u m a y d i s t i n g u i s h , i f y o u w e r e s c h o o l e d w i t h us, b y p i g m e n t a t i o n , b y cast o f f e a t u r e s o r b y t u r n o f p h r a s e , o r b y t h e c l a n n a m e s o n t h e m w h i c h are t h e y , a m o n g t h e faces m o v i n g i n t h e s t r e e t . T h e y w o r s h i p H e a v e n s t r a n g e l y , h a v i n g rites w e s n i g g e r at, a r e k n o w n a s s u p e r s t i t i o u s , c u n n i n g by nature, never to be trusted, given to dancing and a kind of song seductive to t h e ear, a w h i n i n g s o r r o w . Also they b r e e d like f l i e s . T h e danger's t h e r e ; w h e n C a e s a r ' s o l d a n d lays his s c e p t r e d o w n , w e ' l l b e a little p e o p l e , w e l l o u t n u m b e r e d . S o m e o f u s t h i n k o u r leases h a v e r u n o u t b u t dig square heels in, k e e p the roads repaired; and o n e or t w o loud voices w o u l d restore the rack, the y e l l o w patch, the c u r f e w e d g h e t t o . M o s t try t o i g n o r e t h e q u e s t i o n , g o i n g t h e i r w a y , glad t o b e l i v i n g , s u r e that C a e s a r ' s w o r d is ( l a e s a r ' s b o n d for l e g i o n s in o u r n e e d . A m o n g us, s o m e , b e g u i l e d b y t h e n sad musit ,
/I

m a k e c o m m o n cause w i t h t h e natives, i n their hearts h o p i n g t o w i n a t r u c e w h e n t h e t r i b e s assert their ancient right and take w h a t o n c e was theirs. Already from o t h e r lands t h e legions e b b and m e n no longer k n o w the R o m a n peace. A l o n e , I have a harder r o w to h o e : I t h i n k these natives h u m a n , think their c o d e , t h o u g h strange to us, and farther from the t r u t h , o n l y a little so - to be r e d e e m e d i f t h e y t h e m s e l v e s rise u p against t h e spells a n d fears t h e i r c e l i b a t e s s u r r o u n d t h e m w i t h . I find t h e i r s y m b o l s g o o d , a s s u c h , for m e , w h e n I walk in dark places of t h e heart; but name them not to be misunderstood. I k n o w no vices t h e y m o n o p o l i s e , if we allow the forms by h u n g e r bred, t h e sores o f o l d o p p r e s s i o n , t h e d e e p skill i n all evasive acts, t h e s w a d d l e d m i n d s , a d m i t o u r l o a d o f g u i l t -\l m o u r n t h e t r e e s m o r e than as symbol - and w o u l d m a k e amends b y f r a t e r n i s i n g , b y small f r i e n d l y g e s t u r e s , hoping by patient words I may convince m y p e o p l e a n d this p e o p l e w e are c h a n g e d f r o m t h e r a w levies w h i c h u s u r p e d t h e l a n d , if not to kin, to co-inhabitants, a s g o a t a n d o x m a y g r a z e i n t h e s a m e field and each gain s o m e t h i n g from p r o x i m i t y ; \ for w e h a v e r i g h t s d r a w n f r o m t h e soil a n d sky; t h e u s e , t h e p a c e , t h e p a t i e n t years o f l a b o u r , t h e r a i n against t h e lips, t h e c h a n g i n g l i g h t , t h e h e a v y c l a y - s u c k e d s t r i d e , h a v e a l t e r e d us; w e w o u l d b e strangers i n the Capitol; this i s o u r c o u n t r y also, n o w h e r e else; a n d w e shall n o t b e o u t c a s t o n t h e w o r l d .

SUBSTANCE AND S H A D O W T h e r e is a b a r e n e s s in t h e i m a g e s I temper time with in my mind's defence; they hold their o w n , their s t u b b o r n secrecies; n o use t o r a g e against t h e i r r e t i c e n c e : a g a n n e t ' s p l u n g e , a h e r o n by a p o n d , a last r o o k h o m i n g a s t h e s u n g o e s d o w n , a s p i d e r s q u a t t i n g on a b r a c k e n - f r o n d , a n d thistles in a c o r n s h e a f s t u f t e d c r o w n , a b o u l d e r on a h i l l s i d e , l i c h e n - s t a i n e d , t h e sparks o f s u n o n d r i p p i n g icicles, their durable significance c o n t a i n e d i n t e x t u r e , c o l o u r , s h a p e , a n d n o t h i n g else. All t h e s e are s h a r p , s p a r e , s i m p l e , n a t i v e t o this small r e p u b l i c I h a v e c h a r t e d o u t as the sure acre w h e r e my sense is t r u e , w h i l e r o u n d its b o u n d a r i e s s p r a w l t h e s c r e e s o f d o u b t . M y l a m p lights u p t h e k e t t l e o n t h e s t o v e a n d t h r o w s its s h a d o w o n t h e w h i t e w a s h e d w a l l , like s o m e A s s y r i a n p r o f i l e w i t h , a b o v e , a s n a k e , o r b i r d - p r o w e d h e l m e t c r e s t e d tall; b u t this r e m a i n s a s h a d o w ; w h e n I shift the lamp or m o v e the kettle it is g o n e , t h e s u b s t a n c e a n d t h e s h a d o w b r e a k adrift that n e e d e d b r o n z e to lock t h e m , b r o n z e or stone.

AN IRISHMAN IN C O V E N T R Y A full y e a r s i n c e , I t o o k this e a g e r c i t y , t h e t o l e r a n c e t h a t l a c e d its b l a t a n t r o a r , its f a m o u s s t e e p l e s a n d its w e b o f g i r d e r s , as i m a g e of t h e state h o p e a r g u e d for, a n d scarcely f l u n g a b i t t e r t h o u g h t b e h i n d m e o n all that flaws t h e g l o r y a n d t h e g r a c e w h i c h r i b b o n s t h r o u g h t h e sick, g u i l t - c l o t t e d l e g e n d of my i r e e d - h a u n t e d , g o d f o r s a k e n r a c e . M y rhetoric s w u n g r o u n d from steel's h i g h p r o m i s e
M

to the precision of the well-gauged tool, t r a c i n g t h e l o g i c i n t h e vast glass h e a d l a n d s , the clockwork horse, the comprehensive school. T h e n , sudden, by occasion's chance concerted, in enclave of my nation, b u t apart, t h e j i g g i n g d a n c e s a n d t h e l i l t i n g fiddle stirred t h e old rage a n d pity in my heart. T h e faces a n d t h e v o i c e s b l u r r i n g r o u n d m e , t h e s t r o n g h a n d s l o n g familiar w i t h t h e s p a d e , the whiskey-tinctured breath, the pious buttons, called u p a p e o p l e e n d l e s s l y b e t r a y e d b y o u r o w n w e a k n e s s , b y t h e w r o n g s w e suffered in that l o n g twilight o v e r b o g and glen, b y f o r c e , b y f a m i n e a n d b y g l i t t e r i n g fables w h i c h gave u s martyrs w h e n w e n e e d e d m e n , b y faith w h i c h h a d n o c h a r i t y t o offer, by poisoned m e m o r y , and by ready wit, with poverty corroded into malice, to hit and r u n a n d h o w l w h e n it is hit. T h i s i s o u r fate: e i g h t h u n d r e d y e a r s ' disaster, crazily t a n g l e d a s t h e B o o k o f Kells; the dream's distortion and the land's division, t h e m i d n i g h t r a i d e r s a n d t h e p r i s o n cells. Y e t like Lir's c h i l d r e n b a n i s h e d t o t h e w a t e r s o u r h e a r t s still listen for t h e l a n d w a r d bells.

A LOCAL P O E T H e f o l l o w e d t h e i r l i l t i n g stanzas through a thousand columns or m o r e , a n d s c r a t c h e d for t h e s p l i n t e r e d c o u p l e t s i n t h e c r a c k s o n t h e c o t t a g e floor, for his R h y m i n g W e a v e r s fell silent w h e n they flocked t h r o u g h the factory d o o r . H e ' d imagined a highway of heroes a n d s t e p p e d aside o n t h e grass t o lei ( ) u c h u l l a i n ' s c h a r i o i t h r o u g h .
i

a n d t h e S t a r r y P l o u g h m e n pass; but he m e t the Travelling G u n m a n i n s t e a d o f t h e Galloglass. A n d s o , w i t h l u c k , for a d e c a d e d o w n t h e w i d o w e d years a h e a d , t h e p e n s i o n w h i c h c r i p p l e d his c o u r a g e will k e e p h i m i n daily b r e a d , w h i l e h e m o u r n s for his m a n n e r l y v e r s e s t h a t h a d left s o m u c h u n s a i d .

L O U I S

M A C N E I C E

Born Belfast, 1907, to C o u n t y Galway parents. C h i l d h o o d in Carrickfergus, C o u n t y Antrim, w h e r e father, later bishop of D o w n , C o n n o r and D r o m o r e , was rector. Educated at Sherborne Preparatory School, Marlborough School and M e r t o n College, Oxford. Lecturer in classics at University of B i r m i n g h a m , 1 9 3 0 - 6 ; in G r e e k at Bedford College, University of L o n d o n , 1936-40. W o r k e d in features d e p a r t m e n t of B B C , L o n d o n , 1 9 4 1 - 6 1 . Freelanced at the B B C until death in 1963. A distinguished critic and radio dramatist, M a c N e i c e left an unfinished autobiography, The Strings Arc False (1965). Perhaps as a consequence of early exposure to the divergent influences of Ulster, C o n n a c h t and England, M a c N e i c e was distrustful of political abstractions and incapable of the c o m m i t m e n t of the English 'Thirties poets' with w h o m he has b e e n t o o strongly identified. His verse combines delight in the colour and variety of the physical world - 'the drunkenness of things b e i n g various' - with a stoical melancholy. His almost Platonic dualism can be seen alike in the early love p o e m 'Mayfly' and in Autumn Journal, w h e r e he orchestrates a rich flow of c o m m e n t , m e m o r y , anecdote, speculation and opinion r o u n d a moral core of concern for the inadequacy of the c o n t e m p o r a r y response to the M u n i c h crisis. Section XVI, the most energetic of M a c N e i c e ' s many attempted valedictions to Ireland, achieves the ' i m p u r e poetry' he advocated in Modern Poetry: A Personal Essay (1938); its inaccuracies and injustices - flattery of English prejudice about de Valera's Ireland a m o n g t h e m - are ultimately less important than its flexibility and its a c c o m m o d a t i o n of areas of feeling and experience scanted by High M o d e r n i s m . Autumn Sequel is a less animated performance, t h o u g h C a n t o X X ' s account of the funeral of Dylan T h o m a s ('Gwilym') deserves to be better k n o w n . In ' W e s t e r n Landscape' the topography of Ireland serves M a c N e i c e as a correlative for the indeterminacy to w h i c h he was inclined, both intellectually and psychologically. T h e lyrics written in the years leading up to his death after a few days' illness at the age of fifty-five are the most delicate and daring of M a c N e i c e ' s career.

MAYFLY B a r o m e t e r o f m y m o o d s today, mayfly, Up and d o w n o n e a m o n g a million, o n e T h e s a m e a t b e s t a s t h e rest o f t h e j i g g i n g m a y f l i e s , O n e o n l y d a y o f M a y alive b e n e a t h t h e s u n . T h e y o k e l s tilt t h e i r p e w t e r s a n d t h e f o a m Flowers in the sun beside the j e w e l l e d water. D a u g h t e r o f t h e S o u t h , call t h e s u n b e a m s h o m e T o n e s t b e t w e e n y o u r breasts. T h e k i n g c u p s E p h e m e r a l are gay g u l p s o f l a u g h t e r . G u l p of yellow m e r r i m e n t ; cackle of ripples; Lips o f t h e r i v e r t h a t p o u t a n d w h i s p e r r o u n d t h e r e e d s . T h e m a y f l y flirting a n d p o s t u r i n g o v e r t h e w a t e r G o e s u p a n d d o w n i n t h e lift s o m a n y t i m e s for fun. ' W h e n w e are g r o w n u p w e a r e s u r e t o a l t e r M u c h for t h e b e t t e r , t o a d o p t s o l i d e r c r e e d s ; T h e k i n g c u p will cease p r o f f e r i n g his c u p A n d t h e f o a m will h a v e b l o w n f r o m t h e b e e r a n d t h e h e a t no longer dance A n d t h e lift lose fascination a n d t h e M a y C h a n g e h e r t u n e t o J u n e - b u t t h e t r o u b l e w i t h u s mayflies Is that we n e v e r have the c h a n c e to be g r o w n u p . ' T h e y never have the chance, but what of time they have T h e y s t r e t c h o u t t a u t a n d t h i n a n d r i n g i n g clear; S o w e , w h o s e s t r a n d o f life i s n o t m u c h m o r e , I ,et u s t o o m a k e o u r t i m e elastic a n d Inconsequently dance above the dazzling w a v e . N o r put too m u c h on the sympathy of things, T h e dregs of drink, the dried cups of flowers, T h e pathetic fallacy o f t h e p a s s i n g h o u r s W h e n i t i s w e w h o pass t h e m - h o u r s o f s t o n e , Long rows of granite sphinxes looking on.
It is we w h o pass t h e m , we the circus masters

W h o m a k e t h e mayflies d a m e , t h e l a p w i n g s lilt theii < rests,

T h e s h o w will s o o n s h u t d o w n , its g a y - r a g s g o n e , B u t w h e n this s u m m e r i s o v e r let u s d i e t o g e t h e r , I w a n t a l w a y s t o b e n e a r y o u r breasts.

SNOW

T h e r o o m was suddenly r i c h and the great b a y - w i n d o w was S p a w n i n g s n o w a n d p i n k roses against i t S o u n d l e s s l y collateral a n d i n c o m p a t i b l e : W o r l d i s s u d d e n e r t h a n w e f a n c y it. W o r l d is crazier and m o r e of it than we think, Incorrigibly plural. I peel and p o r t i o n A t a n g e r i n e a n d spit t h e p i p s a n d feel T h e drunkenness of things b e i n g various. A n d t h e fire f l a m e s w i t h a b u b b l i n g s o u n d for w o r l d I s m o r e spiteful a n d gay t h a n o n e s u p p o s e s O n t h e t o n g u e o n t h e e y e s o n t h e ears i n t h e p a l m s o f o n e ' s hands T h e r e i s m o r e t h a n glass b e t w e e n t h e s n o w a n d t h e h u g e roses.

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A U T U M N JOURNAL

XVI

N i g h t m a r e leaves fatigue: W e envy m e n o f action W h o sleep and w a k e , m u r d e r and intrigue W i t h o u t being doubtful, without being haunted. A n d I envy the intransigence of my o w n C o u n t r y m e n w h o s h o o t t o kill a n d n e v e r S e e t h e v i c t i m ' s face b e c o m e t h e i r o w n O r find his m o t i v e s a b o t a g e t h e i r m o t i v e s . So reading the m e m o i r s of M a u d G o n n e , D a u g h t e r o f a n English m o t h e r a n d a s o l d i e r l a t h e r .

I n o t e h o w a single p u r p o s e c a n b e f o u n d e d o n A j u m b l e of opposites: I ) u b h n C a s t l e , t h e v i c e - r e g a l ball, T h e embassies o f E u r o p e , I l a t r e d s c r i b b l e d on a w a l l , Gaols and revolvers. A n d I r e m e m b e r , w h e n I w a s little, t h e fear Bandied a m o n g the servants That C a s e m e n t w o u l d l a n d a t t h e p i e r W i t h a s w o r d and a h o r d e of rebels; A n d h o w we used to e x p e c t , at a later date, W h e n the w i n d blew from the west, the noise of shooting Starting in the e v e n i n g at eight I n Belfast i n t h e Y o r k S t r e e t district; And the v o o d o o of the O r a n g e bands D r a w i n g an iron net t h r o u g h darkest Ulster, flailing the l i m b o lands T h e l i n e n mills, t h e l o n g w e t grass, t h e r a g g e d h a w t h o r n . A n d o n e r e a d b l a c k w h e r e t h e o t h e r r e a d w h i t e , his h o p e T h e other man's damnation: Up the Rebels, To Hell with the Pope, A n d G o d Save - a s y o u p r e f e r - t h e K i n g o r I r e l a n d . The l a n d o f scholars a n d saints: S c h o l a r s a n d saints m y e y e , t h e l a n d o f a m b u s h , Purblind manifestoes, n e v e r - e n d i n g complaints, T h e b o r n m a r t y r a n d t h e gallant n i n n y ; The g r o c e r d r u n k w i t h t h e d r u m , T h e l a n d - o w n e r s h o t i n his b e d , t h e a n g r y v o i c e s Piercing t h e b r o k e n fanlight in t h e slum, T h e s h a w l e d w o m a n w e e p i n g a t t h e garish altar. Kathaleen ni Houlihan! W h y M u s t a c o u n t r y , like a s h i p or a car, be a l w a y s f e m a l e , M o t h e r or sweetheart? A w o m a n passing by, W e d i d b u t see h e r passing. Passing like a p a t c h of s u n on t h e r a i n y hill A n d yet w e l o v e h e r for e v e r a n d h a t e o u r n e i g h b o u r A n d e a c h o n e in his will Hinds his heirs t o c o n t i n u a n c e o f h a t r e d . I M u m s on the h a y c o c k , d r u m s on the harvest, black
I
>IIUIIS in

t h e night s h a k i n g t h e w i n d o w s :

K i n g W i l l i a m i s r i d i n g his w h i t e h o r s e b a c k To the Boyne on a banner. Thousands of banners, thousands of white Horses, thousands of Williams W a v i n g t h o u s a n d s o f s w o r d s a n d r e a d y t o fight T i l l t h e b l u e sea t u r n s t o o r a n g e . Such was my c o u n t r y and I t h o u g h t I was well O u t o f it, e d u c a t e d a n d d o m i c i l e d i n E n g l a n d , T h o u g h y e t h e r n a m e k e e p s r i n g i n g like a b e l l I n a n u n d e r - w a t e r belfry. W h y d o w e like b e i n g Irish? P a r t l y b e c a u s e It gives us a h o l d on t h e s e n t i m e n t a l English As m e m b e r s of a w o r l d that n e v e r was, B a p t i s e d w i t h fairy w a t e r ; A n d p a r t l y b e c a u s e I r e l a n d i s small e n o u g h T o b e still t h o u g h t o f w i t h a family f e e l i n g , A n d b e c a u s e t h e w a v e s are r o u g h T h a t split h e r f r o m a m o r e c o m m e r c i a l c u l t u r e ; A n d b e c a u s e o n e feels t h a t h e r e a t least o n e c a n D o local w o r k w h i c h i s n o t a t t h e w o r l d ' s m e r c y A n d t h a t o n this t i n y stage w i t h l u c k a m a n M i g h t see t h e e n d o f o n e p a r t i c u l a r a c t i o n . It is s e l f - d e c e p t i o n of c o u r s e ; T h e r e i s n o i m m u n i t y i n this island e i t h e r ; A c a r t t h a t i s d r a w n b y s o m e b o d y else's h o r s e A n d c a r r y i n g g o o d s t o s o m e b o d y else's m a r k e t . T h e b o m b s i n t h e t u r n i p sack, t h e s n i p e r f r o m t h e roof, G r i f f i t h , C o n n o l l y , C o l l i n s , w h e r e h a v e t h e y b r o u g h t us? Ourselves alone! Let the r o u n d t o w e r stand aloof In a w o r l d of bursting mortar! Let the school-children fumble their sums In a h a l f - d e a d l a n g u a g e ; Let t h e c e n s o r b e busy o n t h e b o o k s ; pull d o w n t h e G e o r g i a n slums; Let the games be played in Gaelic. L e t t h e m g r o w b e e t - s u g a r ; let t h e m b u i l d A f a c t o r y in e v e r y h a m l e t ; L e t t h e m p i g e o n - h o l e t h e souls o f t h e killed I n t o s h e e p and goats, patriots and traitors. A n d t h e N o r t h , w h e r e I w.is a b o y . Is still t h e N o r t h , v e n e e r e d w i t h t h e g r i m e ol ( S l a s g o w ,
HI I

T h o u s a n d s o f m e n w h o m n o b o d y will e m p l o y Standing at the corners, coughing. And t h e s t r e e t - c h i l d r e n play o n t h e w e t P a v e m e n t - h o p s c o t c h or marbles; A n d e a c h r i c h family b o a s t s a s a g g i n g t e n n i s - n e t On a spongy lawn beside a dripping shrubbery. The s m o k i n g c h i m n e y s h i n t At prosperity round the corner I hit t h e y m a k e their U l s t e r l i n e n from foreign lint And the m o n e y that c o m e s in goes out to m a k e m o r e m o n e A city built u p o n m u d ; A culture built u p o n profit; Free speech n i p p e d in t h e b u d , The m i n o r i t y always guilty. W h y should I want to go back To y o u , Ireland, my Ireland? | The b l o t s o n t h e p a g e are s o b l a c k That they cannot be covered with shamrock. I h a t e y o u r g r a n d i o s e airs, Y o u r sob-stuff, y o u r l a u g h a n d y o u r s w a g g e r , Y o u r a s s u m p t i o n that e v e r y o n e cares W h o i s t h e k i n g o f y o u r castle. ( astles a r e o u t o f d a t e , T h e t i d e f l o w s r o u n d t h e c h i l d r e n ' s s a n d y fancy; P u t u p w h a t flag y o u l i k e , i t i s t o o late T o save y o u r s o u l w i t h b u n t i n g . ( hli atque amo: Shall w e c u t this n a m e o n t r e e s w i t h a r u s t y d a g g e r ? \ l lei m o u n t a i n s are still b l u e , h e r r i v e r s f l o w Bubbling over the boulders. S h e is b o t h a b o r e a n d a b i t c h ; Better close t h e h o r i z o n , S e n d h e r n o m o r e fantasy, n o m o r e l o n g i n g s w h i c h A r c u n d e r a fatal tariff. I 0 1 c o m m o n sense i s t h e v o g u e A n d s h e gives h e r c h i l d r e n n e i t h e r s e n s e n o r m o n e y W h o slouch around the world with a gesture and a b r o g u e A n d a faggot of useless m e m o r i e s .

HI

MEETING POINT T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else, T h e r e w e r e t w o glasses a n d t w o c h a i r s A n d t w o p e o p l e w i t h the o n e pulse ( S o m e b o d y s t o p p e d t h e m o v i n g stairs): T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else. A n d they were neither up nor d o w n ; T h e stream's music did not stop Flowing through heather, limpid b r o w n , A l t h o u g h t h e y sat in a coffee s h o p And they were neither up nor d o w n . T h e bell w a s silent i n t h e air H o l d i n g its i n v e r t e d p o i s e B e t w e e n t h e clang and clang a flower, A brazen calyx of no noise: T h e b e l l w a s silent i n t h e air. T h e camels crossed the miles of sand T h a t stretched a r o u n d the cups a n d plates; T h e desert was their o w n , they planned T o p o r t i o n o u t t h e stars a n d d a t e s : T h e camels crossed the miles of sand. T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else. T h e waiter did n o t c o m e , the clock Forgot t h e m and the radio waltz C a m e o u t like w a t e r from a rock: T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else. H e r fingers flicked a w a y t h e ash T h a t b l o o m e d again in tropic trees: N o t c a r i n g i f t h e m a r k e t s crash W h e n t h e y h a d forests s u c h a s t h e s e , H e r fingers f l i c k e d a w a y t h e ash. G o d or whatever means the G o o d B e praised that t i m e can s t o p like t h i s . That w h a t the- heart lias u n d e r s t o o d
H:

C a n verify i n t h e b o d y ' s p e a c e G o d or whatever means the Good. T i m e was a w a y and she was h e r e A n d life n o l o n g e r w h a t i t w a s , T h e b e l l w a s silent i n t h e air A n d all t h e r o o m o n e g l o w b e c a u s e T i m e was a w a y and she was h e r e .

AUTOBIOGRAPHY In my c h i l d h o o d trees w e r e g r e e n A n d there was plenty to be seen. Come back early or never come. M y f a t h e r m a d e t h e walls r e s o u n d , H e w o r e his c o l l a r t h e w r o n g w a y r o u n d . Come back early or never come. M y m o t h e r w o r e a y e l l o w dress; Gently, gently, gentleness. Come back early or never come. W h e n I w a s five t h e b l a c k d r e a m s c a m e ; N o t h i n g after w a s q u i t e t h e s a m e . Come hack early or never come. T h e dark was talking to the dead; T h e lamp was dark beside my bed. Come back early or never come. W h e n I w o k e they did not care; N o b o d y , n o b o d y was t h e r e .

H \

MEETING P O I N T T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else, T h e r e w e r e t w o glasses a n d t w o c h a i r s A n d t w o p e o p l e w i t h the o n e pulse ( S o m e b o d y s t o p p e d t h e m o v i n g stairs): T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else. A n d they were neither up nor d o w n ; T h e stream's music did n o t stop Flowing through heather, limpid b r o w n , A l t h o u g h t h e y sat in a coffee s h o p A n d they were neither up nor d o w n . T h e bell w a s silent i n t h e air H o l d i n g its i n v e r t e d p o i s e B e t w e e n the clang and clang a flower, A brazen calyx of no noise: T h e b e l l w a s silent i n t h e air. T h e camels crossed t h e miles of sand T h a t stretched a r o u n d the cups and plates; T h e desert was their o w n , they planned T o p o r t i o n o u t t h e stars a n d d a t e s : T h e camels crossed the miles of sand. T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else. T h e waiter did n o t c o m e , the clock Forgot t h e m and the radio waltz C a m e o u t like w a t e r from a rock: T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else. H e r fingers f l i c k e d a w a y t h e ash T h a t b l o o m e d again i n t r o p i c t r e e s : N o t c a r i n g i f t h e m a r k e t s crash W h e n t h e y h a d forests s u c h a s t h e s e , H e r fingers f l i c k e d a w a y t h e ash. G o d or whatever means the G o o d B e p r a i s e d t h a t t i m e can s t o p like t i n s . That what the heart has understood
M !

C a n verify i n t h e b o d y ' s p e a c e G o d or whatever means the Good. T i m e was away and she was here A n d life n o l o n g e r w h a t i t w a s , T h e bell w a s s i l e n t i n t h e air A n d all t h e r o o m o n e g l o w b e c a u s e T i m e was a w a y a n d she was h e r e .

AUTOBIOGRAPHY In my c h i l d h o o d trees w e r e g r e e n And there was plenty to be seen. Come back early or never come. M y f a t h e r m a d e t h e walls r e s o u n d , H e w o r e his c o l l a r t h e w r o n g w a y r o u n Come back early or never come. M y m o t h e r w o r e a y e l l o w dress; Gently, gently, gentleness. Come back early or never come. W h e n I w a s five t h e b l a c k d r e a m s c a m e N o t h i n g after w a s q u i t e t h e s a m e . Come back early or never come. T h e dark was talking to t h e dead; T h e lamp was dark beside m y b e d . ( lome back early or never conic. W h e n I w o k e t h e y did n o t c a r e ; N o b o d y , n o b o d y was t h e r e .

Ml

Come back early or never come. W h e n m y silent t e r r o r cried, N o b o d y , n o b o d y replied. Come back early or never come. I got u p ; t h e chilly sun Saw me walk away alone.

Come back early or never come.

T H E LIBERTINE I n t h e o l d days w i t h m a r r i e d w o m e n ' s s t o c k i n g s T w i s t e d r o u n d his b e d p o s t h e felt h i m s e l f a gay D o g b u t n o w his l i v e r has b e g u n t o g r o a n , N o w that p i c k - u p s are t h e o r d e r o f the day: O l e a v e m e easy, l e a v e m e a l o n e . V o l u p t u a r y i n his ' t e e n s a n d c y n i c i n his t w e n t i e s , H e ran t h r o u g h w o m e n like a child t h r o u g h g r o w i n g L o o k i n g for a lost t o y w h o s e c a p t u r e m i g h t a t o n e F o r his o w n g u i l t a n d t h e c o s m i c disarray: O l e a v e m e easy, l e a v e m e a l o n e . H e n e v e r f o u n d t h e t o y a n d has f o r g o t t e n t h e faces, O n l y r e m e m b e r s the p r o p s . . . a scent-spray Beside the bed or a m i l k - w h i t e telephone O r t h r o u g h t h e t r i p l e n i n o n t h e acrid t r i c k l e o f d a y : O l e a v e m e easy, l e a v e m e a l o n e .

I L o n g fingers o v e r t h e g u n w a l e , h a i r i n a h a i r - n e t , F u r s i n J a n u a r y , c a r t w h e e l hats i n M a y , A n d after t h e e v e n t t h e w i s h t o b e a l o n e A n g e l s , g o d d e s s e s , b i t c h e s , all h a v e e d g e d a w a y : O l e a v e m e easy, l e a v e m e a l o n e .

S o n o w , i n m i d d l e a g e , his e r o t i c p r o g r a m m e T o r n i n t w o , i f after s u c h a d e l a y A n a c c i d e n t s h o u l d offer h i m his o w n F u l f i l m e n t i n a w o m a n , still h e w o u l d say: O l e a v e m e easy, l e a v e m e a l o n e .

WESTERN LANDSCAPE I n d o g g e r e l a n d s t o u t let m e h o n o u r this c o u n t r y I ' l i o u g h t h e air i s s o soft t h a t i t s m u d g e s t h e w o r d s A n d h e r d s o f g r e a t c l o u d s f i n d t h e gaps i n t h e f e n c e s ( )f chance preconceptions and foam-quoits on rock-points A t o n c e h i t a n d miss, h i t a n d m i s s . S t > t h e kiss o f t h e past i s n a r c o t i c , t h e o c e a n I o l l i n g l y lullingly over-insidiously t )ver a n d u n d e r crossing t h e eyes And docking the queues of the t e e t o t u m consciousness Proves and disproves w h a t it wants. For the western climate is L e t h e , I h e s m o k y taste o f c o o k i n g o n t u r f i s l o t u s , T h e r e are affirmation a n d a b n e g a t i o n t o g e t h e r f r o m t h e b r o k e n b o g w i t h its v e i n s o f a m b e r w a t e r , F r o m t h e d i s t a n t h e a d l a n d , a s p h i n x ' s fist, t h a t b a r e l y g r i p s t h e sea, From the taut-necked donkey's neurotic-asthmatic-erotic lamenting, From the heron in trance and in half-mourning, I i i n the m i t r e d m o u n t a i n w e e p i n g shale. ( ) grail of e m e r a l d p a s s i n g l i g h t And h a n g i n g smell of sweetest hay A m i g r a i n o f sea a n d l o o m o f w i n d Weavingly laughingly leavingly weepingly W e b s that will last a n d w i l l n o t . Hut w h a t I s t h e h o l d u p o n , t h e affinity w i t h < Kirselves ol s u c h a light a n d l i n e , I l o w d o w e find c o n t i n u a n c e t >l o u t it'ii h u m a n s k e i n s ol w i s h I n i I n s i n h u m a n effluent c
MS

O r e l e v a n c e of c l o u d a n d r o c k If such could be our p e r m a n e n c e ! T h e flock o f m o u n t a i n s h e e p b e l o n g T o t u m b l e d s c r e e s , t o t u m b l i n g seas T h e r i b b o n e d w r a c k , and m o o r t o mist; [But w e w h o s a v o u r l o n g i n g l y This plenitude of solitude H a v e lost t h e r i g h t t o r e s i d e n c e ^ C a n only glean e p h e m e r a l Ears o f o u r o n c e b e a t i t u d e . C a r e s s i n g l y cajolingly T a k e w h a t y o u c a n for s o o n y o u g o Consolingly, coquettishly, T h e soft r a i n kisses a n d f o r g e t s , Silken m e s h o n skin a n d m i n d ; A d e a f - d u m b siren t h a t c a n s i n g W i t h f i n g e r t i p s h e r falsities, Welcoming, abandoning. O B r a n d a n , spindrift h e r m i t , w h o Hankering roaming un-homing up-anchoring F r o m this r o c k w a l l l o o k e d s e a w a r d s t o K n o t the h o r i z o n r o u n d y o u r waist, Distil that distance a n d u n d o T i m e in quintessential West: T h e best negation, r o u n d as n o u g h t , Stiller t h a n s t o l e n s l e e p - t h o u g h b o u g h t W i t h mortification, voiceless choir W h e r e all w e r e silent a s o n e m a n A n d all d e s i r e fulfilled, u n s o u g h t . Thought: T h e curragh w e n t over the wave and dipped in the trough W h e n t h a t h o r n y - h a n d e d saint w i t h t h e a b s t r a c t e y e set off W h i c h w a s f o u r t e e n h u n d r e d years a g o - m a y b e n e v e r A n d y e t h e b o b s b e y o n d t h a t n e x t h i g h crest for e v e r . Feeling: Sea m e t s k y , h e h a d n e i t h e r f l o o r n o r c e i l i n g , T h e r i s i n g b l u e o f t u r f - s m o k e a n d m o u n t a i n w e r e left b e h i n d , B l u e n e i t h e r t i p p e d n o r d o w n e d , t h e r e w a s b l u e all r o u n d t h e mind. Emotion:
Hi,

O n e t h o u g h t o f G o d , o n e feeling o f the o c e a n , fused in the m o v i n g b o d y , the u n m o v e d soul, M a d e h i m a part of a n o t to be parted w h o l e . Whole. A n d t h e W e s t w a s all t h e w o r l d , t h e l o n e l y w a s t h e o n l y , T h e chosen - and there was no choice - the Best, For the b e y o n d was here . .. B u t for us n o w [ T h e b e y o n d i s still o u t t h e r e a s o n t i p t o e s h e r e w e s t a n d ( ) n p r o m o n t o r i e s t h a t are t h e m s e l v e s a - t i p t o e R e l u c t a n t t o b e l a n d . W h i c h i s w h y this l a n d Is a l w a y s m o r e t h a n m a t t e r - as a b a l l e t Dancer is m o r e than body. T h e west of Ireland Is b r u t e a n d ghost at once.j T h e r e f o r e in passing A m o n g t h e s e s h a d o w s o f this p e r m a n e n t s h o w Flitting evolving dissolving b u t n e v e r q u i t t i n g This arbitrary and necessary N a t u r e Both bountiful and callous, harsh and w h e e d l i n g Let n o w t h e v i s i t o r , a l t h o u g h d i s f r a n c h i s e d In the constituencies of quartz and b o g - o a k And ousted from the elemental congress, I e t m e a t least i n t o k e n t h a t m y m o t h e r Harth w a s a r o c k y e a r t h w i t h breasts u n c o v e r e d T o s u c k l e solitary i n t e l l e c t s And l i m b e r instincts,|jet m e , if a bastard ( h i t o f t h e W e s t b y u r b a n civilization^ ( W h i c h u n w i s h e d father claims me - so I m u s t take W h a t 1 c a n b e f o r e I g o ) let m e w h o a m n e i t h e r B r a n d a n I i c e of all r o o t s n o r y e t a r o o t e d p e a s a n t ^ I I ere a d d o n e s t o n e to t h e i n d i f f e r e n t c a i r n . . . W i t h a stone on the cairn, w i t h a w o r d on the w i n d , w i t h a p r a y e r i n t h e flesh let m e h o n o u r this c o u n t r y .

HI

from A U T U M N SEQUEL from

C A N T O XX

To Wales once m o r e , though not on holiday n o w ; G l u e d t o m y seat, w h i r l e d d o w n a r u t h l e s s t r a c k To Wales once m o r e , grasping a golden b o u g h , K e y to the misty west. I am wearing black Shoes w h i c h I b o u g h t w i t h G w i l y m in R e g e n t Street T o t r a v e l t o D r u m c l i f f i n , f i v e years b a c k ; D r u m c l i f f w a s w e t , t h o s e n e w s h o e s c r a m p e d m y feet A t Y e a t s ' s f u n e r a l ; t h e y are n o t s o s m a r t N o r y e t s o t i g h t for G w i l y m ' s . F r o m m y seat I see m y n i g h t - b o u n d d o u b l e , s l u m p e d a p a r t On a c o n v e y o r belt that, decades high I n e m p t i n e s s , c a n n e i t h e r s t o p n o r start B u t j u s t m o v e s o n for e v e r till w e d i e . It is t o o late for q u e s t i o n s ; on this b e l t We c a n n o t a n s w e r w h a t we are or w h y . . . T h e n o n t o S w a n s e a for t h e n i g h t , b e n i g h t e d In black and b a r r e n rain. B u t night m u s t e n d , A n d e n d i n g banishes the rain. D e l i g h t e d M o r n i n g e r u p t s t o bless all W a l e s a n d s e n d U s w e s t o n c e m o r e o u r sad b u t sunlit w a y T h r o u g h hills o f r u d d y b r a c k e n w h e r e e a c h b e n d I n t h e r o a d i s a n o t h e r s m i l e o n t h e face o f d a y . W e s t o p a t r a n d o m for a m o r n i n g d r i n k In a t h a t c h e d i n n ; to find, as at a p l a y , T h e bar already l o u d w i t h chatter and clink O f glasses; n o t s o r a n d o m ; n o o n e h e r e B u t was a friend of G w i l y m ' s . O n e c o u l d t h i n k T h a t all t h e s e s h o t s o f w h i s k y , p i n t s o l b e e r , M a k e o n e Pactolus t u r n i n g words to gold In h o n o u r of o n e golden m o u t h , in sheer
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Rebuttal of the silence a n d the cold A t t a c h e d t o d e a t h . T h e r i v e r rolls o n w e s t A s p r o u d a n d clear a s its b e s t years h a v e r o l l e d A n d lands u s a t t h e v i l l a g e , w h i c h i s d r e s s e d In one uncanny quiet and one kind B l u e sky, a n a t t i t u d e o f h o s t t o g u e s t S a y i n g : C o m e s h a r e m y grief. W e w a l k b e h i n d T h e s l o w g r e a t h e a p s o f f l o w e r s , t h e small a u s t e r e A n d single laurel w r e a t h . B u t t h e n u m b e d m i n d Fails t o a c c e p t s u c h w o r d s a s t e m p t t h e e a r T h e R e s u r r e c t i o n a n d t h e Life; i t k n o w s O n l y that G w i l y m o n c e was living here A n d here is n o w being buried. A repose O f s u n l i g h t lies o n t h e g r e e n s l o p i n g field W h i c h s h o u l d h o l d g o a t s o r g e e s e . M y fingers c l o s e O n w h a t g r e e n t h o u g h t s this a c r e still c a n y i e l d Before we leave that d e e p , that n o t green, grave, T h a t letter to be superscribed and sealed N o w t h a t i t has n o c o n t e n t s ; w i n d a n d w a v e R e t a i n far m o r e o f G w i l y m . W h a t h e t o o k F r o m this small c o r n e r o f W a l e s s u r v i v e s i n w h a t h e g a v e . T h e g r e e n field e m p t i e s , w i t h o n e t e n t a t i v e l o o k Backwards we m o v e away, and then walk d o w n T o w h e r e h e l i v e d o n a cliff; a n o p e n b o o k O f sands a n d w a t e r s , silver a n d s h i n i n g b r o w n , I lis e s t u a r y s p r e a d s b e f o r e us a n d its b i r d s T o w h i c h h e g a v e r e n o w n reflect r e n o w n ( ) n h i m , t h e i r cries r e s o l v e i n t o his w o r d s fust as, u p o n t h e r i g h t . Sir J o h n ' s j u s t hill I o o k s n o w , a n d justly, G w i l y m ' s . W e l e a v e t h e c u r d s
A n d ( l i m p s o l Mats a n d < h a n n e l s a n d t h r o u g h t h e still

E v e n i n g rejoin the m o u r n e r s . If a birth E x t e n d s a family circle a n d glasses fill C o n f i r m i n g its u n i q u e n e s s a n d t h e w o r t h O f life, I t h i n k a d e a t h t o o d o e s t h e s a m e , Confirming and extending. Earth to earth, B u t t o t h e w h o l e o f it. I n G w i l y m ' s n a m e W e talk a n d e v e n l a u g h , t h o u g h n o w a n d t h e n Illusions (surely illusions?) rise, t o s h a m e M y r e a s o n . T h r e e illusions. O n e : t h a t w h e n W e left t h a t grassy f i e l d , w e also left G w i l y m b e h i n d t h e r e , if n o t able to p e n O n e w o r d , y e t a b l e p e r h a p s t o feel b e r e f t O r m a y b e t o feel p l e a s e d t h a t s u c h a p l a c e R e m a i n s t o h i m . T h e n w a s i t gift o r t h e f t , T h i s b u r i a l ? M o r e r a t i o n a l t h o u g h t s efface S u c h w h i m s , b u t t h e s e c o n d illusion c o m e s : p e r h a p s G w i l y m has s l i p p e d off s o m e w h e r e , i n t o t h e g r a c e O f s o m e afterlife w h e r e free f r o m toils a n d traps H e r e v e l s for e v e r i n w o r d s . T h e s e fancies t o o F l i c k e r like W i l l o ' t h e W i s t f u l s , a n d c o l l a p s e ; S i n c e , e v e n i f a n afterlife w e r e t r u e , G w i l y m w i t h o u t his b o d y , his b o o m i n g v o i c e , W o u l d simply n o t be G w i l y m . As I or you W o u l d not be I or you and, given the choice, I , for o n e , w o u l d r e j e c t it. Last, t h e t h i r d Illusion, w h i c h gives reason to rejoice Or rather strong unreason: what we have heard A n d s e e n t o d a y m e a n s n o t h i n g , this c r o w d e d b a r W a s o n e of G w i l y m ' s favourites, it is absurd H e s h o u l d n o t j o i n u s h e r e , i t was a l w a y s g o i n g t o o T o e x p e c t h i m o n t h e d o t b u t , late o r s o o n ,
I [c will
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S o m a n y o f his friends h e r e t o b u f f o o n A n d sparkle w i t h . H o w e v e r , i f n o t t o n i g h t , W e n e e d n o t w a i t for l e a p y e a r o r b l u e m o o n B e f o r e w e r u n across h i m . M o o n s are w h i t e In L o n d o n as in Wales and by t o m o r r o w W e shall b e b a c k i n L o n d o n w h e r e t h e s i g h t A n d s o u n d o f h i m will b e w e l c o m e , h e m a y b o r r o w A p o u n d or t w o of course or keep us waiting B u t w h a t a b o u t it? I n t h o s e streets o f s o r r o w A n d e v e n m o r e o f b o r e d o m , his e l a t i n g E l a t e d p r e s e n c e b r i n g s a sluice of fresh W a t e r into d i m ponds t o o long stagnating. T h i s is t h e t h i r d i l l u s i o n , a fine m e s h Of probable impossibles; of course, O f c o u r s e , w e t h i n k , w e shall m e e t h i m i n t h e flesh T o m o r r o w o r t h e n e x t d a y , i n full f o r c e O f flesh a n d w i t a n d h e a r t . W e close t h e d o o r On Wales and backwards, eastwards, from the source O f s u c h clear w a t e r , l e a v e t h a t a l t e r e d s h o r e O f gulls a n d p s a l m s , o f g r e e n a n d g o l d largesse. N o v e m b e r t h e T w e n t y - f i f t h . W e are b a c k o n c e m o r e In L o n d o n . A n d will he k e e p us w a i t i n g ? . . . Y e s .

from A H A N D OF SNAPSHOTS
THE ONCE-IN-PASSING

A n d h e r e t h e cross o n t h e w i n d o w m e a n s m y s e l f But that w i n d o w d o e s n o t o p e n ; B o r n h e r e , I s h o u l d h a v e p r o v e d a d i f f e r e n t self.

Sn< h V i s t . I S d a t e n o t o p e n ; f i n w h a t i a n w a l k o r talk w i t h o u t t o n g u e o r feet?

91

H e r e for a m o n t h t o s p e n d b u t n o t t o e a r n , H o w could I even imagine S u c h a life h e r e t h a t m y p l a i n days c o u l d e a r n T h e life m y d r e a m s i m a g i n e ? F o r w h a t takes r o o t o r g r o w s that o w n s n o r o o t ? Y e t h e r e for a m o n t h , a n d for this o n c e i n passing, I c a n i m a g i n e at least T h e p e r m a n e n c e o f w h a t passes, As though the w i n d o w opened A n d t h e a n c i e n t cross o n t h e hillside m e a n t myself.

HOUSE ON A CLIFF I n d o o r s t h e t a n g o f a t i n y oil l a m p . O u t d o o r s T h e w i n k i n g signal o n t h e w a s t e o f sea. Indoors the sound of the wind. O u t d o o r s the wind. I n d o o r s t h e l o c k e d h e a r t a n d t h e lost k e y . O u t d o o r s t h e chill, t h e v o i d , t h e s i r e n . I n d o o r s T h e s t r o n g m a n p a i n e d t o find his r e d b l o o d c o o l s , W h i l e t h e b l i n d c l o c k g r o w s l o u d e r , faster. O u t d o o r s T h e silent m o o n , t h e g a r r u l o u s t i d e s s h e r u l e s . I n d o o r s ancestral c u r s e - c u m - b l e s s i n g . O u t d o o r s T h e empty bowl of heaven, the empty deep. I n d o o r s a p u r p o s e f u l m a n w h o talks a t cross P u r p o s e s , t o himself, i n a b r o k e n s l e e p .

SOAP SUDS T h i s b r a n d o f s o a p has t h e s a m e s m e l l a s o n c e i n t h e b i g H o u s e h e v i s i t e d w h e n h e w a s e i g h t : t h e walls o f t h e b a t h r o o m open T o r e v e a l a l a w n w h e r e a g r e a t y e l l o w ball rolls b a c k t h r o u g h a hoop To rest at t h e h e a d of a mallet h e l d in t h e h a n d s ot a c h i l d .

92

And these w e r e the joys of that house: a t o w e r w i t h a telescope; T w o g r e a t f a d e d g l o b e s , o n e o f t h e e a r t h , o n e o f t h e stars; A stuffed b l a c k d o g i n t h e hall; a w a l l e d g a r d e n w i t h b e e s ; A r a b b i t w a r r e n ; a r o c k e r y ; a v i n e u n d e r glass; t h e sea. T o w h i c h h e has n o w r e t u r n e d . T h e d a y o f c o u r s e i s fine A n d a g r o w n - u p v o i c e cries Play! T h e m a l l e t s l o w l y s w i n g s , T h e n c r a c k , a g r e a t g o n g b o o m s f r o m t h e d o g - d a r k hall a n d t h e ball Skims forward t h r o u g h the h o o p and then t h r o u g h the next and then T h r o u g h h o o p s w h e r e n o h o o p s w e r e a n d e a c h dissolves i n t u r n A n d t h e grass has g r o w n h e a d - h i g h a n d a n a n g r y v o i c e cries Play! Hut t h e ball i s lost a n d t h e m a l l e t s l i p p e d l o n g s i n c e f r o m t h e hands I Inder the r u n n i n g tap that are n o t the h a n d s of a child.

T H E SUICIDE A n d this, ladies a n d g e n t l e m e n , w h o m I a m n o t i n fact < o n d u c t i n g , w a s his office all t h o s e m i n u t e s a g o , This m a n y o u n e v e r h e a r d of. T h e r e are t h e bills I n t h e i n t r a y , t h e ash i n t h e a s h t r a y , t h e g r e y m e m o r a n d a s t a c k e d Against h i m , t h e s e r r i e d r a n k s o f t h e b o x - f i l e s , t h e p a c k e d I m y o f his u n a n s w e r e d c o r r e s p o n d e n c e N o d d i n g under the paperweight in the breeze I r o m t h e w i n d o w b y w h i c h h e left; a n d h e r e i s t h e c r a c k e d l'< ( e i v e r t h a t n e v e r g o t m e n d e d a n d h e r e i s t h e j o t t e r W i t h his last d o o d l e w h i c h m i g h t b e his o w n d i g e s t i v e t r a c t I lit er a n d all or m i g h t be t h e f l o w e r y m a z e I h r o u g h w h i c h h e h a d w a n d e r e d d e l i c i o u s l y till h e s t u m b l e d S u d d e n l y finally c o n s c i o u s o f all h e l a c k e d < >n a m a n h o l e u n d e r t h e h o l l y h o c k s . T h e p e n c i l Poinl h a d o b v i o u s l y b r o k e n , y e t , w h e n h e left this r o o m H\ < a t d r o p s l e i g h t - o f - f o o t or s i m p l e v a n i s h i n g a c t , I o l h o s e yvho k n e w h i m for all t h a t mess in t h e s t r e e t
I In. in.in

w i t h t h e shy s m i l e has left b e h i n d

S o m e t h i n g that was inta< t

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STAR-GAZER F o r t y - t w o y e a r s a g o (to m e i f t o n o o n e else T h e n u m b e r i s o f s o m e i n t e r e s t ) i t w a s a b r i l l i a n t starry n i g h t A n d t h e w e s t w a r d train was e m p t y and h a d n o corridors S o d a r t i n g f r o m side t o side I c o u l d c a t c h t h e u n w o n t e d sight Of those almost intolerably bright H o l e s , p u n c h e d i n t h e sky, w h i c h e x c i t e d m e p a r t l y b e c a u s e Of their Latin n a m e s and partly because I had read in the textbooks H o w v e r y far off t h e y w e r e , i t s e e m e d t h e i r l i g h t H a d left t h e m ( s o m e a t least) l o n g years b e f o r e I w a s . A n d this r e m e m b e r i n g n o w I m a r k t h a t w h a t L i g h t w a s l e a v i n g s o m e o f t h e m a t least t h e n , F o r t y - t w o years a g o , w i l l n e v e r a r r i v e I n t i m e for m e t o c a t c h it, w h i c h l i g h t w h e n I t d o e s g e t h e r e m a y find t h a t t h e r e i s n o t A n y o n e left alive T o r u n f r o m side t o side i n a late n i g h t t r a i n A d m i r i n g it and adding n o u g h t s in vain.

D E N I S

D E V L I N

Born G r e e n o c k , Scotland, of Irish parents, 1908. Lived Dublin, 1920-30. Educated at Belvedere College and University College I )ublin. Travelled widely in E u r o p e , 1 9 3 0 - 3 , studying in M u n i c h and Pans. Lectured in English at UCD before j o i n i n g Irish diplomatic service, 1935. Posted to R o m e (1938), N e w York (1939), W a s h i n g t o n (1940) and L o n d o n (1947). Minister plenipotentiary to Italy, 1950, and T u r k e y , 1951. Ambassador to Italy, 1958. D i e d D u b l i n , 1959. I )evlin's p o e m s have b e e n c h a m p i o n e d by such Irish admirers as Brian Coffey, Samuel Beckett, T h o m a s Kinsella and J o h n M o n t a g u e , and by Allen T a t e and Robert P e n n W a r r e n in the U n i t e d States. O t h e r readers have found t h e m stilted and showy. Manifestly ambitious, his w o r k has a tendency to lapse into bathos: it is arguable that he only intennittently achieved a style that fully a c c o m m o d a t e d his intellectual interests. T h e four selected pieces reveal Devlin's characteristic c o n c e r n with exile as the true condition of h u m a n life, and with the inscrutable nature of sexual and divine love.

A N K ' H O R VAT T h e a n t l e r e d forests M o v e d o w n t o t h e sea. H e r e the dung-filled j u n g l e pauses B u d d h a has c o v e r e d t h e walls o f t h e g r e a t t e m p l e W i t h t h e v e g e t a t i v e s p e e d o f his i m a g e r y Let u s w a i t , h a n d i n h a n d N o W e s t e r n g o d o r saint E v e r s m i l e d w i t h t h e lissom fury o f this g o d W h o holds in d o u b t T h e w o o d e n stare o f A p o l l o ( )ui ( Christian c r o w n of t h o r n s :

95

T h e r e is no m y s t e r y in t h e l u m i n o u s lines O f t h a t h i g h , a n i m a l face T h e s m i l e , sad, h u m o u r i n g a n d e q u a l Blesses w i t h o u t o b l i g i n g Loves w i t h o u t condescension; T h e g o d , clear a s s p r i n g - w a t e r Sees t h r o u g h e v e r y t h i n g , w h i l e e v e r y t h i n g Flows through him A fling of flowers h e r e W h o s e names I do not k n o w D o w n y , scarlet g u l l e t s G r e e n legs y i e l d i n g a n d c l o s i n g W h i l e , at my m e n t a l distance from passion, T h e prolific d i v i n i t y o f t h e t e m p l e Is a q u i e t l e t t e r i n g on v e l l u m . L e t u s lie d o w n b e f o r e h i m H i s l o o k w i l l f l o w l i k e oil o v e r u s .

LITTLE ELEGY I will walk w i t h a lover of w i s d o m A s m i l e for S e n a t o r D e s t i n y B u t I shall g l a d l y l i s t e n . H e r b e a u t y w a s like s i l e n c e i n a c u p o f w a t e r D e c a n t i n g all b u t t h e d r e a m m a t t e r . T h e figures o f r e a l i t y S t o o d a b o u t , D a n t e s q u e a n d pitiful. C a n a n y o n e tell m e h e r n a m e ? I will l o v e h e r a g a i n a n d again G i r l o n skis, a r r o w a n d b o w i n o n e , M a s k e d i n glass, g r a c e f u l , H a r d as a w o r d in s e a s o n . I saw a r o u n d , B a v a r i a n g o o d m a n And a
I

larvard student w i t h a %

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art's l o p e

Colliding with h u g e nosegays T h e n laughter burst above their flowers: Absent of m i n d , they had their wits a b o u t t h e m I laughed at t h e m b o t h outright A n d at s i m p e r i n g , peasant statues Graces and gods w o u l d they be! It was a h e a d y s p r i n g t i m e in M u n i c h M a n y I k n e w confided in me P o p u , t h e c h a m p i o n cyclist S i g m u n d , deriding tyrants A n d C a r l o s , w h o m a d e l o v e shyly T o a f u r t i v e , g e n t l e girl And came to my door, stammering, 'She loves m e , y o u k n o w . ' 'She loves m e , y o u k n o w . ' But geography separated t h e m A n d g e o g r a p h y k e e p s t h e m apart N o w t h e y live f o r g o t t e n i n e a c h o t h e r ' s h e a r t .
II

T h e s u n w a s full o n , t h e b i r d - b r e e d Gradually found their wings. T h e b a r o q u e c h u r c h e s g l o w e d like t h e B o o k o f Kells. We t w o , with butterbrot and sweetmilk O v e r the s n o w beneath blue winds W e n t far a n d w i d e . B u s y , a l o n e , w e all g o far a n d w i d e W h o o n c e listened to each other's Fair v o w s a n d c o u n s e l . ( ) f t h o s e t h a t g o o u t o f t h e cafes a n d t h e g a r d e n s S o m e lie in p r i s o n s S o m e die o l u n h a p p i n e s s
I I I I 1 ( 1 ( 1 , it is so!

T h i s is ill I can r e m e m b e r Q u a r r e l l i n g , gusts o l c o n f i d e n c e I I K I lass ( l i m b i n g t l u o u g l i l.um n i g h t s

A n d her I would meet As t h o u g h I w e r e unconscious I n v a c a n t , b r i g h t - c o l u m n e d streets A n d beings in love's tunic scattered to the four winds F o r n o r e a s o n a t all F o r n o r e a s o n t h a t I c a n tell.

from MEMOIRS OF A T U R C O M A N DIPLOMAT

O T E L I ASIA PALAS, I N C .

E v e n i n g s e v e r m o r e w i l l i n g lapse i n t o m y w o r l d ' s e v e n i n g , Birds, like Imperial e m b l e m s , in their thin, abstract singing, A n n o u n c e s o m e lofty M a j e s t y w h o s e e m b a s s i e s are n o t understood, T h r u s h e s ' a n d f i n c h e s ' c h o r d s , like t h e y e l l o w a n d b l u e skies changing place. I h o l d m y stick, o l d - w o r l d , t h e w a i t e r s k n o w m e , A n d sip a t m y E u r o p e a n d r i n k , w h i l e s u n l i g h t falls, L i k e t h i c k Italian silks o v e r t h e s q u a r e h o u s e s i n t o t h e B o s p h o r u s . L a d i e s , I call y o u w o m e n n o w , f r o m o u t m y e m p t i e d t e n d e r n e s s , All d e a d i n t h e w a r s , b e f o r e a n d after w a r , I toast y o u m y a d v e n t u r e s w i t h y o u r b e a u t y ! W h e r e t h e d o m e s o f S i n a n s h i v e r like d u c t i l e v i o l e t s i n t h e rain of light. T o t h e F r a n k s , I s u p p o s e it's u g l y , this b r i c k a n d o b l o n g , W h e n a rare sunlight, rare birdsong, C o m p o s e t h e a b s o l u t e k i n g d o m far i n t h e sky T h e F r a n k s m u s t ask h o w i t w a s k n o w n , h o w r e a c h e d , h o w g o v e r n e d , h o w let d i e ? T h i s w o m a n w h o passes b y , s i d e w a y s , b y y o u r side: T h e r e w a s o n e y o u l o v e d for years a n d y e a r s ; S u d d e n l y t h e j a w i s u g l y , t h e s h o u l d e r s fall, P r o v o k i n g b u t r e s e n t m e n t , h a r d l y tears.

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RENEWAL BY HER ELEMENT The hawthorn morning moving Above the battlements, Breast from breast of lover Tears, r e m i n d s of difference A n d body's raggedness. I m m u n e from resolution I n t o c o m m o n clay Because I have not k n o w n you; S e l f - c o n t e n t as b i r d s o n g Scornful at n i g h t - b r e a k a g e Y o u seem to m e . I am Fresh from a l o n g absence. O s u a v e t h r o u g h s u r f lifting M y smile u p o n y o u r m o u t h ; Limbs according to rhythm Separating, closing; Scarcely using m y n a m e , Traveller t h r o u g h troubling gestures, O n l y for r a r e e m b r a c e s Of prepared texture. Y o u r lips a m u s e d h a r d e n M y arms r o u n d y o u defiant, Y o u shirk m y e n w r e a t h i n g Language, and y o u smile, T u r n i n g aside m y h a n d T h r o u g h y o u r b r e a t h ' s l i g h t leafage, Preferring yourself reflected In my body to me, Preferring my image of y o u To you w h o m I achieved. Noise is c u r b e d attentive, T h e sea h a n g s o n y o u r lips: W h a t w o u l d 1 d o less? It is o v e r n o w but o n c e ( >111 fees w e r e nothing m o r e , Eat I i l " i use " I t h e o t h e i 99

In m o r t g a g e , t h a n a glance. I k n e w the secret m o v e m e n t s Of the blood under your throat A n d w h e n w e lay l o v e - p r o v e n W h i s p e r i n g legends to sleep Braceleted in embrace Y o u r hands pouring on me F r e s h w a t e r o f t h e i r caresses, Breasts, nests o f m y t e n d e r n e s s , All n i g h t w a s l a c e d w i t h p r a i s e . N o w m y i m a g e faded I n t h e l u c i d fields O f y o u r eyes. N e v e r again S u r p r i s e for y e a r s , y e a r s . My landscape is grey rain A s l a n t o n b e n t seas.

W . R .

R O D G E R S

Born Belfast, 1909. Educated at Q u e e n ' s University Belfast and the Presbyterian Theological College. O r d a i n e d 1935 and appointed minister in Loughall, C o u n t y Armagh. I n t r o d u c e d to m o d e r n poetry by J o h n H e w i t t . Began writing, 1939. Resigned ministry and m o v e d to London to w o r k in B B C features d e p a r t m e n t , 1946. Elected m e m b e r of Irish A c a d e m y of Letters, 1951. Series of college appointments in California from 1966. D i e d Los Angeles, 1969. Rodgers's w o r k belongs to the N e w R o m a n t i c m o m e n t in British poetry w h e n y o u n g e r writers reacted against w h a t they saw as the desiccating ironies of T.S. Eliot's brand of m o d e r n i s m . A n d yet his verse has a specific Irish context t o o : as a Presbyterian manifestation of what Austin Clarke called ' o u r racial drama of conscience', it marks a milestone in the conflict b e t w e e n sensuality and Christian asceticism w h i c h runs from the dialogues of Oisin and Patrick in the Fenian cycle to Kavanagh's 'Father Mat'. Like m a n y of Rodgers's early p o e m s , ' S n o w ' celebrates sound and m o v e m e n t , relishing its o w n reckless ebullience u n d e r the shadow of the e n c r o a c h i n g war. 'Lent' is o n e of a n u m b e r of u n o r t h o d o x Christian meditations written after he left his ministry. T h e o t h e r t w o p o e m s explore aspects of sexual love - a subject to w h i c h Rodgers t u r n e d with the zeal of a convert.

SNOW

O u t o f t h e g r e y air g r e w s n o w a n d m o r e s n o w Soundlessly in nomllions of flakes C o m m i n g l i n g and sinking negligently T o g r o u n d , soft a s f r o t h a n d easy a s ashes Alighting, closing t h e ring of sight. A n d , Silting, it a u g m e n t e d e v e r y t h i n g F u r r i n g t h e b a r e leaf, b l u r r i n g t h e t h o r n , Fluffing, t o o , t h e t e l e p h o n e - w i r e , p a d d i n g All t h e p a t h s a n d b o o s t i n g b o o t s , a n d p u f f i n g Big o v e r r i m s , like b o i l i n g m i l k , m e e k l y I n d u l g i n g t h e b u l g i n g hill, a n d b o l d l y

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Bolstering the retiring hole, until I t o w n e d a n d i n t e g r a t e d all. A n d t h e n S n o w s t o p p e d , disclosing a n o n y m i t y I m p o s e d , t h e b l a n k a n d b l o t l e s s sea i n w h i c h B o t h dotted tree and dashing bird w e r e sunk, A n d a n c h o r e d g r o u n d a n d r o c k i n g grass e n g r o s s e d . A n d s o o n t h e k n o c k a n d hiss o f c i s t e r n c e a s e d a s G r a d u a l l y w i t h i n k l i n g s a n d w r i n k l i n g strings O f ice t h e t h i c k e n i n g c o l d a n c h o r e d t h e s k i n A n d slow core of water, gluing and glossing All leaks, n i g g l i n g o r g r e a t , n a k e d o r g u a r d e d . L o n g s n a u g h t e r s o f ice a t t h e t a p ' s s n o u t h u n g J a g g e d a n d stiff like s t r a w - e n d s this h a r d m o r n i n g . At every vent things hesitated; here, In c o n f o r m i n g holes a n d h u t s , t h e shy creatures S h r a n k f r o m issuing, a n d , r o o t e d t o g e t h e r , S t o o d arrested and irresolute at doors, P e p p e r i n g w i t h p e e p i n g s t h e s u r p r i s i n g fields F o x in knoll, fowl in h o u s e , heifer in hovel. O n l y t h e bull, d u b i o u s a n d delicate, stalked I n his p a d d o c k , distrust s p i k i n g his b l i n d steps. H i s s p i n n i n g e y e , his s p o k e d g l a n c e s , g l i n t e d a n d Tilted. His horn gored and scorned the ground, and scored T h e o a k , a n d fans o f v a p o u r j e t t e d a n d j u m p e d Stiffly f r o m nostrils, i n c e n s i n g t h e l o o s e s n o w L i k e s m o k e , a n d p o w d e r i n g his k n e e s . N o i s i l y O n t h e s l e e k e d lake o n l o o k e r s l i n g e r e d i n r i n g R o u n d t h e single a n d d e f e r e n t s k a t e r l e a n i n g o v e r i n flight, l i k e grass s l a n t e d b y w i n d , F o o t - e n g r o s s e d , l o c k e d i n his o w n l o o k i n g - g l a s s O f c o n s c i o u s j o y a n d e v i d e n t finery O f m o v e m e n t , forgetful o f o u t e r v o i c e s . Forgetful of v e n o m , of fame, of laughter, O f flouting Evil and o f t o u t i n g G o o d that W a i t e d w o o d e n l y for h i m l i k e t o r m e n t o r s A t t h e e n d a n d e d g e o f his d r e a m , t o w a k e n A n d c l a i m h i m . S o h e slid o n , a s w e all d o , Forgetting the m o r r o w , forgetting too T h e m a r r o w o f w a t e r i n t h e b o n e o f ice ( I ike t h e w o r m i n t h e w o o d ) , t h e l i q u e f a c t i o n
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A n d f r i c t i o n i n all fixed t h i n g s , v i r t u e i n v i c e , T h e b o m b domanial in the d o m e of blue.

LENT M a r y M a g d a l e n e , t h a t easy w o m a n , S a w , f r o m t h e s h o r e , t h e seas B e a t against t h e h a r d s t o n e o f L e n t , C r y i n g , ' W e e p , seas, w e e p For yourselves that cannot dent me m o r e . ' O m o r e t h a n all t h e s e , m o r e c r a b b e d t h a n all s t o n e s , A n d cold, m a k e m e , w h o once C o u l d l e a p like w a t e r , L o r d . T a k e m e As one w h o owes N o t h i n g t o w h a t she was. A h , n a k e d . ' M y waves of scent, my petticoats of foam Put from me and rebut; D i s o w n . A n d t h a t salt lust stave off T h a t s l a v e r e d me - O L e t i t w h i t e n i n g r i e f against t h e s t o n e s ' A n d o u t e r reefs o f m e . U t t e r l y doff, N o r l e a v e t h e l i g h t e s t veil O f feeling t o h e a v e o r soften. N o t h i n g cares this h e a r t W h a t h a r d n e s s c r a t e s i t n o w o r coffins. ' O v e r t h e balconies o f these c u r v e d breasts I'll n o m o r e p e e p t o s e e T h e light p r o c e s s i o n o f m y l o v e s Surf-riding in to me W h o n o w h a v e e y e s a n d a l c o v e , L o r d , for T h e e . ' ' R o o m , M a r y , ' said H e , 'ah m a k e r o o m for m e W h o a m c o m e s o cold n o w T o m y t o m b . ' So, o n G o o d Friday,

U n d e r a frosty m o o n T h e y c a r r i e d H i m a n d laid H i m i n h e r w o m b . A g r a v e a n d icy m a s k h e r h e a r t w o r e t w i c e , B u t on the third day it t h a w e d , A n d only a stone's-flow away M a r y saw h e r G o d . D i d y o u hear me? Mary saw her G o d ! D a n c e , M a r y M a g d a l e n e , d a n c e , d a n c e a n d sing, For unto you is born T h i s d a y a K i n g . ' L a d y , ' said H e , ' T o you w h o relent I bring back the petticoat and the bottle of scent.'

THE NET Quick, w o m a n , in your net C a t c h t h e silver I fling! O I am d e e p in y o u r d e b t , D r a w tight, skin-tight, the string, A n d r a k e t h e silver in. N o fisher e v e r y e t D r e w such a c u n n i n g ring. A h , shifty as t h e fin O f a n y fish this flesh T h a t , shaken to the shin, N o w shoals i n t o y o u r m e s h , B u r s t i n g t o b e h e l d in; Purse-proud and pebble-hard, Its p e n c e l i k e s h i n g l e s h o w e r e d . O p e n the haul, and shake T h e fill o f shillings free, L e t all t h e satchels b r e a k A n d leap a b o u t the k n e e In shoals of ecstasy.

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G u i n e a s a n d gills will f l a k e At each gull-plunge of m e . T h o u g h all t h e a n g e l s , a n d Saint M i c h a e l a t t h e i r h e a d , Nightly contrive to stand On guard about your bed, Y e t n o n e dare take a hand, B u t each can only spread His eagle-eye instead. B u t I , b e i n g m a n , c a n kiss And bed-spread-eagle too; All f l e s h shall c o m e t o t h i s , B e i n g less t h a n a n g e l is, Y e t h i g h e r far in bliss As it entwines with you. C o m e , make no sound, my sweet; T u r n d o w n the candid lamp A n d d r a w the equal quilt O v e r o u r n a k e d guilt.

STORMY N I G H T Is this t h e s t r e e t ? N e v e r a sign of life, T h e swinging lamp throws everything about; B u t see! f r o m t h a t sly d o o r w a y , like a k n i f e T h e gilt e d g e o f i n v i t i n g l i g h t slides o u t A n d i n again - t h e v e r y sign O f h e r w h o s e slightest n o d I lately t h o u g h t w a s m i n e ; But not n o w . K n o c k ! a n d t h e n i g h t - f l o w e r i n g lady O p e n s , a n d across t h e b r i l l i a n t sill Sees m e s t a n d i n g t h e r e s o d a r k a n d s h a d y 1 l u g g i n g t h e s i l e n c e s o f m y ill-will;
W i l d l y s h e ( i n n s from m e But n o , m y l o v e . This l o o t ' s w i t h i n the d o o i , this h a n d ' s w i t h o u t the glove I OS

W e l l m a y y o u t r e m b l e n o w , a n d say t h e r e w a s n o t h i n g m e a n t , A n d curl away from my care w i t h a 'Please, my dear!', For though you were smoke, sucked up by a raging vent, I ' d f o l l o w y o u t h r o u g h e v e r y f l u e o f y o u r fear, A n d o v e r y o u r faraway a r m s I'll m o u n t a i n a n d c o n e I n a pillar o f c a r o l l i n g fire a n d f o u n t a i n i n g s t o n e . O s t r i k e t h e g o n g o f y o u r w r o n g , raise t h e r o o f o f y o u r r a g e Fist a n d foist m e off w i t h a c l o u d o f cries, W h a t d o I c a r e for all y o u r f o o t l i n g r a m p a g e ? O n y o u r l i g h t - i n - g a l e b l o w s m y l a r k i n g caresses w i l l rise, B u t - W h y s o still? W h a t ? a r e y o u w e e p i n g , m y s w e e t ? A h h e a r t , h e a r t , l o o k ! I t h r o w m y s e l f a t y o u r feet.

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M I R T N

D I R E I N

Born Inishmore, Aran Islands, 1910. W o r k e d in Central Post Office, (ialway, 1928-37. M o v e d to D u b l i n , w h e r e he was employed as a civil servant until 1975. Began writing poetry in 1938, publishing nine collections b e t w e e n 1942 and 1980. D.Litt. from National University of Ireland, 1977. D i e d D u b l i n . 1988. Uniquely a m o n g Irish-language poets of the m o d e r n era, O Direin grew up in a m o n o g l o t Gaelic e n v i r o n m e n t , learning English only in his teens. His p o e m s typically view Inishmore from the vantage of m i d d l e class, A n g l o p h o n e , suburban Dublin, and contrast the material i m p o v e r i s h m e n t of the o n e w i t h the spiritual privations of the other. Small, rhythmically c u n n i n g lyrics of swift pace and e x t r e m e compression, at their best they m a k e Aran a symbol of the lost unity of modern life. T h e three p o e m s reprinted here c o m e from the 1950s. T h e first t w o are perhaps the most forceful of O Direin's direct evocations of Inishmore. 'Cranna Foirtif combines m e m o r y , folklore, allusion, neologisms, and b o t h colloquial and dictionary-drawn idioms in a sombre but verbally playful meditation on the difficulty of maintaining artistic integrity in a hostile culture.

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DEIREADH R Fir n a scal m o lean! Is an bs l e a g a d h , M n na seal l e a n a c h t Is m i s e fs ar m a r t h a i n I mease na b p l d gan a i n m , G a n ' C d h r d o b h ?' ar a m b a l N fios m o s h l o i n n e a c u . N hil l i o m feasta d a r m ' a n a m D i m h a b h r ar c h l o c h a glasa! N filteach r o m h a m a n c h a r r a i g , M ar thir m ' i g e ar bealach, M i m ' O i s n a r n a craga, Is fs ar fud an c h l a d a i g h , M a g c a o i n e a d h slua n a m a r b h .

C U I M H N E AN D O M H N A I G H C h m grian a n D o m h n a i g h a g t a i t n e a m h Anuas ar ghnis an talaimh San o i l e n r i n t r t h n n a ; M r c h u i d cloch is g a n n c h u i d cr Sin teist an s c e i r d o i l e i n , Dthaigh dhearil mo dhaoine. C h m m a r c h a i t h a n c h l o c h g a c h fear, M a r lioc i n a c l fin , Is c h m an d r e a m a thrig go h a g C l o c h is c r is d t h a i g h d h e a r i l , Is c h m s e fs g a c h m t h a i r faoi chs Ag c e a p a d h a hil le d n a c u i m h n e .

ERA'S END M y grief o n the m e n o f t h e stories A n d t h e d e a t h t h a t fells t h e m ! T h e shawled w o m e n following A n d I still alive A n o n y m o u s amid the throng, W i t h o u t ' W h o ' s h e ? ' o n t h e i r lips Or knowledge of my surname. N e v e r again will I try T o press f r i e n d s h i p o n g r e y s t o n e s ! T h e r e ' s n o w e l c o m e for m e o n t h e r o c k , Hunting my youth on the way L i k e O i s i n o n t h e crags, N o r again a l o n g t h e foreshore Lamenting the host of the dead. translated by Patrick Crotty

MEMORY OF SUNDAY I see t h e S u n d a y s u n b e a t i n g D o w n o n t h e face o f t h e g r o u n d I n t h e b e l o v e d island all a f t e r n o o n ; M u c h s t o n e , little clay T h a t ' s t h e b l e a k island's t e s t i m o n y , T h e wretched inheritance of my people. I see h o w t h e s t o n e has cast e a c h m a n , A n d b r u i s e d h i m i n t o its o w n s h a p e . A n d I see t h e c r o w d w h o f o r s o o k f o r e v e r S t o n e a n d clay a n d w r e t c h e d i n h e r i t a n c e , A n d 1 see t o o e a c h p u t - u p o n m o t h e r C o m p o s i n g h e r b r o o d like a p o e m t o m e m o r i s e . translated by Patrick Crotty

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C R A N N A FOIRTIL C o i n n i g h d o t h a l a m h a a n a m Horn, Coigil chugat gach tamhanrud, Is n b m a r ghiolla gan chaithir I n d i a i d h na gcarad nr fhin duit. M i n i c a d h e a r c a i s l a d h r n tr Ar charraig fhliuch go h u a i g n c a c h ; M u r a b h f u a i r adil n t o i n n N i bhfuair g u t h ina hagmais. N o r thugais do rocht d h o r c h a C a i p n an tsonais ar do c h e a n n , A c h cuireadh cranna cosanta G o t e a n n t h a r d o c h l i a b h n clir. C r a n n a caillte a c u i r e a d h t h a r a t ; T l u iarainn os do c h i o n n , Ball a d a i g h d ' a t h a r t a o b h leat Is b i o r sa t i n e t h i o s . L u i g h a r d o c h r a n n a foirtil I g c o i n n e m a l l m h u i r is d t h r , Coigil aithinne d'aislinge, S c a r a d h li is a g d u i t .

I Hi

S T R O N G BEAMS Stand y o u r g r o u n d , soul: H o l d fast t o e v e r y t h i n g t h a t ' s r o o t e d , A n d d o n ' t react like s o m e p u b e s c e n t b o y W h e n y o u r friends let y o u d o w n . Often y o u ' v e seen a redshank Lonely on a w e t rock; I f h e w o n n o spoil f r o m t h e w a v e T h a t w a s n o c a u s e for c o m p l a i n t . Y o u b r o u g h t from y o u r dark k i n g d o m N o lucky caul o n y o u r h e a d But protective beams w e r e placed Firmly r o u n d y o u r cradle. W i t h e r e d beams they placed r o u n d you, An iron tongs above you, A n i t e m o f y o u r father's clothes beside y o u A n d a p o k e r i n t h e fire b e l o w . Put your weight to your strong oar-beams Against n e a p - t i d e and l o w water; Preserve the spark of y o u r vision Lose that a n d y o u ' r e finished. translated by Patrick Crotty

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R O R D I N

Born Ballyvourncy, C o u n t y C o r k , 1917. M o v e d to Inniscarra, a few miles outside C o r k city, 1932. Educated at the N o r t h Monastery, C o r k . Clerk in C o r k City Hall, 1 9 3 6 - 6 5 . Part-time position in Irish department, University College C o r k , 1 9 6 9 - 7 6 . D.Litt. from National University of Ireland, 1976. D i e d C o r k , 1977. O Rordin w r o t e a weekly c o l u m n for the Irish Times, 1 9 6 7 - 7 5 . His near legendary diaries remain unpublished. T h e tuberculosis which blighted O Rordin's y o u t h is reflected in his poetry's frequent references to illness and, crucially, in its characteristic projection of the estranged, resigned, too fervid perspective of the invalid. Anguish of o n e sort or another - grief, guilt, religious terror provides the starting point of m a n y of the p o e m s but the writing is never merely expressive. Startling imagery and an undercurrent of anarchic, self-deprecating h u m o u r play against the grimness of O Rordin's themes. No t w e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y Irish p o e m in either language issues from as d e e p within Catholic religious consciousness as ' C n o c Mellerf (based on a retreat in the Cistercian abbey in C o u n t y Waterford). N e i t h e r has the Oedipal intensity of the son's relationship to the m o t h e r - a fact of life in rural Ireland - ever been presented as hauntingly (or with as little embarrassment) as in 'Adlilacadh Mo Mhthar'. T h a t p o e m extracts a pained artistic credo from its unlikely materials, and is perhaps the first fully m o d e r n lyric in Irish. T h e short pieces represent an equal o r d e r of achievement. 'Claustrophobia' adapts the rhetoric of the W a r of I n d e p e n d e n c e (most fiercely fought in the poet's native west C o r k ) to the struggle against despair, while 'Siollabadh' gives free rein to the playful impulse never entirely absent from O Rordin's w o r k .

ADHLACADH M O MHTHAR Grian an M h e i t h i m h in llghort, Is s i o s a r n a c h i sioda an t r t h n n a , Beach mhallaithe ag portaireacht M a r screadstracadh ar an ninbhrat. Seanalitir shalaithe l a m h a g a m , L e g a c h f o c a l d e o c h d a r las Pian bhinibeach ag dealgadh mo chlibhse, D o b h r d i g h a m a c h g a c h focal d i o b h a d h e o i r fin. Do c h u i m h n i o s ar an limh a dhein an scribhinn, Lmh a bhi inaitheanta mar aghaidh, L m h a thai r i a m h c n e a s t a c h t s e a n a - B h i o b l a , L m h a b h i m a r bhalsam is t tinn. A g u s t h i t a n M e i t h e a m h siar i s t e a c h s a G h e i m h r e a d h , D e n l l g h o r t d e i n e a d h r e i l i g b h n cois a b h a n n , Is i lr na b a l b h - b h i n e i mo t h i m p e a l l Do liigh os ard sa tsneachta an d u p h o l l , G i l e g e a r r a c h a i l e l c a d c h o m a o i n e , Gile a b h l a i n n e D D o m h n a i g h a r altir, Gile bainne ag sreangtheitheadh as na ciochaibh, N u a i r a c h u i r e a d a r m o m h t h a i r , gile a n f h i d . B h i m ' a i g n e s c i i r s e a d h fin a g i a r r a i d h An t-adhlacadh a bhlaiseadh go hiomln, N u a i r a d'eitil trid an gcinas b a n go rnionla S p i d e o g a b h i gan m h e a r b h a l l gan scth: Agus d'fhan os c i o n n na h u a i g h e f m a r go m b ' e o l di Go raibh an toisc a t h u g ceilte ar c h c h A c h a n t a b h i a g f e i t h e a m h ins a n g c o m h r a i n n , I s d o r i n n e a s a d fn g c a i d r e a m h n e a m h g h n c h . D o t h u i r l i n g aer n a b h F l a i t h e a s a r a n u a i g h sin, B h i m e i d h i r uafsach naofa a r a n c a n , Bhios deighilte amach n diamhairghn im thuata, I s a n uaigh sin o s m o ( l i o i n h a i i i n i m i g i n .
I
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MY M O T H E R ' S BURIAL J u n e sun in an orchard A n d a w h i s p e r i n g i n t h e a f t e r n o o n ' s silk, A malicious bee's drone S c r e a m - t e a r i n g t h e d a y ' s fabric. A n old soiled letter i n m y h a n d : W i t h every w o r d that I drank A v e n o m o u s pain s t u n g my breast, E a c h w o r d b r u i s e d o u t its i n d i v i d u a l tear. I recalled the hand that did the writing, A h a n d as r e c o g n i s a b l e as a face, A h a n d that dealt o u t old Biblical kindness, A h a n d t h a t w a s like b a l m w h e n y o u w e r e ill. A n d J u n e collapsed back into winter: T h e o r c h a r d was a w h i t e c e m e t e r y by a river A n d f r o m t h e h e a r t o f t h e silent w h i t e n e s s all a b o u t m e T h e black hole roared in the s n o w . T h e w h i t e n e s s o f a girl o n h e r first C o m m u n i o n D a y , T h e w h i t e n e s s o f t h e w a f e r o n a S u n d a y altar, T h e w h i t e n e s s o f m i l k d r a w i n g free f r o m t h e b r e a s t s , W h e n they b u r i e d m y m o t h e r , t h e w h i t e n e s s o f t h e sod. M y m i n d w a s s c o u r g i n g itself i n t h e a t t e m p t T o savour the burial entire W h e n there gently flew i n t o the bright silence A robin, unflustered, unafraid. It h o v e r e d a b o v e t h e g r a v e as if it k n e w T h e r e a s o n for its c o m i n g w a s h i d d e n f r o m all But t h e o n e l y i n g w a i t i n g i n t h e coffin: I resented their extraordinary exchange. T h e air o l I l e a v e n l a n d e d o n t h a t g r a v e , A t e r r i b l e , saintly m e r r i m e n t h e l d t h e b i r d : I was b a n c d from t h e m y s t e r y like a l a y m a n A n d tin g r a v e , t h o u g h right before m e , was miles a w a y
11 .

Le c u m h r a c h t brin do folcadh m ' a n a m driseach, T h i t sneachta geanmnaiochta ar mo chroi, A n o i s a d h l a c f a d sa c h r o i a d e i n e a d h i o n r a i c C u i m h n e n a m n d ' i o m p a i r m tr r i t h e i n a b r o i n n . T h i n i g n a s c o l g a l e b o r b t h o r a n n sluasad, I s d o s c u a b a d a r l e f u i n n e a m h a n c h r i s t e a c h san u a i g h , D'fhachas-sa t r e o eile, b h i c o m h a r s a ag glanadh a g h l u i n e , D ' f h a c h a s a r a n sagart i s b h i s a o l t a c h t i n a g h n i s . Grian an M h e i t h i m h in llghort, Is s i o s a r n a c h i sioda an t r t h n n a , Beach mhallaithe ag portaireacht M a r screadstracadh ar an ninbhrat. Ranna beaga bacacha scrobh agam, B a m h a i t h l i o m b r e i t h a r eireaball s p i d e o i g e , Ba m h a i t h l i o m sprid l u c h t glanta gln a dhibirt, B a m h a i t h l i o m triall g o d e i r e a d h lae g o b r n a c h .

MALAIRT ' G a i b h i l e i t h , ' arsa T u r n b u l l , ' g o b h f e i c e t a n b r n I s u i l i b h an c h a p a i l l , D m b e a d h c r b a c h o m h m r l e o sin ftsa b h e a d h b r n I d s h i l i b h c h o m h m a i t h leis.' A g u s b ' f h o l l a s g u r t h u i g s c h o m h m a i t h sin a n b r n I s i l i b h an c h a p a i l l , I s g u r m h a c h n a i g h c h o m h c r u a i d h air g u r t o m a d h f d h e o i d h In aigne an chapaill. D ' f h a c h a s a r a n gcapall g o b h f e i c i n n a n b r n ' N a shilibh ag seasamh, D o c h o n a c sile T u r n b u l l a g f a c h a i n t i m t h r e o As cloigeann an chapaill.

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T h e freshness o f s o r r o w w a s h e d m y l a s c i v i o u s s o u l , P u r e s n o w fell o n m y h e a r t : In my w h i t e heart n o w I will b u r y the m e m o r y O f s h e w h o c a r r i e d m e t h r e e seasons i n h e r w o m b . T h e labourers c a m e w i t h a harsh s o u n d of shovels A n d roughly swept the earth into the grave. I l o o k e d a w a y , a n e i g h b o u r w a s b r u s h i n g his k n e e s ; I l o o k e d at t h e p r i e s t a n d t h e r e w a s w o r l d l i n e s s in his face. J u n e sun in an o r c h a r d A n d a w h i s p e r i n g i n t h e a f t e r n o o n ' s silk, A malicious bee's drone S c r e a m - t e a r i n g t h e d a y ' s fabric. Little h a l t i n g verses I ' m w r i t i n g , I ' d like t o c a t c h t h e tail o f a r o b i n , I'd like t o v a n q u i s h t h e spirit o f t h e k n e e - b r u s h e r s , I ' d l i k e t o fare i n s o r r o w t o t h e e n d o f d a y . translated by Patrick Crotty

SWITCH ' C o m e h e r e , ' said T u r n b u l l , 'till y o u see t h e sadness In the horse's eyes, I f y o u h a d s u c h b i g h o o v e s u n d e r y o u t h e r e ' d b e sadness In y o u r eyes t o o . ' I t w a s clear t h a t h e u n d e r s t o o d s o w e l l t h e sadness In the horse's eyes, A n d had p o n d e r e d it so long that in the e n d h e ' d plunged Into the horse's m i n d . I l o o k e d at t h e h o r s e to see t h e sadness ( ) b v i o u s in its e y e s , A n d saw l u r n b u l l ' s eyes l o o k i n g in my direction From the horse's head.

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D ' f h a c h a s ar T u r n b u l l is d ' f h a c h a s air f d h Is do c h o n a c ar a l e a c a i n N a sile r m h r a b h i b a l b h l e b r n Sile an c h a p a i l l .

C N O C MELLER S r a n n t a r n a c h na stoirme i M e l l e r arir Is laethanta an pheaca b h o i g m a r bhreoiteacht ar mo c h u i m h n e , L a e t h a n t a b a l e a p a c h a d e s h o n a s c h l m h a n tsaoil I s d r e a n c a i d n a d r i s e i o n t u a g p r e a b a r n a i g h ina m i l t e . D ' i r i g h san o c h e s i d h e g a o i t h e c o i s c i m , M a n a i g h a g triall a r a n A i f r e a n n , M e i d h i r , c a s a d h t i m p e a l l is r i n c e san aer, Brga na manach ag cantaireacht. Brthair sa p h r o i n n t e a c h ag riaradh suipir, Tost b o g ba bhalsam d o n intinn, A i n n i s e naofa in oscailt a b h i l , Iompar mothaolach Crosta mhaith. D o d o i r t e a d h steall a n c h r u t h a c h g r i n e g o m a l l T r mhnla cruiceogach fuinneoige, Do ghaibh si cruth manaigh bhaitheas go b o n n Is do thosnaigh an ghrian ag litheoireacht. Leabhar ag an manach bn n a m h d a c h lamh, Go h o b a n n casachtach an chloig, Do m c h a d h an manach b h i danta de ghrin I s d o s c o i l t e a d h a n focal na p h l o i c .

B u a i l e a d h clog C o m p l i n is bhrostaigh gach aoi M a o l c h l u a s a c h i d t r e o an t s i p i l ; B h i b e a t h a n a n a o m h s e o c h o m h b a n l e braitlin Is s i n n e c h o m h d u b h Icis an d a o l .

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I l o o k e d a t T u r n b u l l o n e last t i m e A n d s a w o n his face O u t s i z e eyes that w e r e d u m b w i t h sadness T h e horse's eyes. translated by Patrick Crotty

M O U N T MELLERAY T h e s n o r i n g o f t h e s t o r m i n M e l l e r a y last n i g h t A n d days o f soft sin o n m y m e m o r y l i k e s i c k n e s s , D a y s t h a t w e r e life's b e d s o f ease W i t h fleas o f lust h o p p i n g i n t h e m i n t h e i r t h o u s a n d s . A fairy w i n d o f f o o t s t e p s r o s e i n t h e n i g h t - M o n k s g o i n g to Mass, G a i e t y , t u r n i n g a b o u t a n d d a n c i n g i n t h e air, T h e c h a n t i n g o f sandals. A b r o t h e r in the dining-hall dispensing supper, A s i l e n c e so soft it w a s b a l m for t h e m i n d , T h e saintly p o v e r t y o f his s p e e c h A n d unaffected d e m e a n o u r of a g o o d Christian. 1 )eformed sunlight was slowly p o u r e d T h r o u g h the hive-like w i n d o w Until it t o o k the shape of a m o n k from head to toe, A shape that b e g a n to read. T h e white malevolent m o n k was reading a b o o k W h e n a bell s u d d e n l y c o u g h e d The s u n - m o n k w a s o b l i t e r a t e d A n d t h e w o r d lost f r o m his c h e e k s . ( D i i i p l m e was r u n g and e v e r y guest I lurried, subdued, towards the chapel; These saints' lives s e e m e d s h e e t - w h i t e W h e i e ours were beetle-black.

Alias a r p h a i d r n b r i t e i m l i m h , M o bhrste dlth-thite lem ghlin, Ghluais sochraid chochallach m a n a c h thar brid, Ba s h u a r a c h leat f a c h a i n t a t h a b h a i r t . A c h d ' f h a c h a s g o fiosrach g a n taise g a n t r u a M a r f h a c h a d a r G i d a i g h fad A r L a z a r u s c t h a i l a g triall a s a n u a i g h Is g i r e na sl t h a r t d h . Do thiteadar tharainn na n d u i n e is 'na n d u i n e ,

Reilig ag sorphaidreoireacht, I s d o t h u i r l i n g t i u b h s c a m a l l d e c h l i m h liath n a cille Go brnach ar ghrua an trthnna. ' T a n bs a g c u r seaca a r b h e a t h a a n s e o , Aige t na m a n a i g h ar aimsir, E i s e a n a n t A b a r a n d e i n e a n n siad r u d , Ar a s h o n d e i n i d troscadh is treadhanas. ' B u a c h a i l l m a r s h e a n d u i n e m e i r t n e a c h a g sil, Masla ar c h o i m i r c e D , An t 'dhanfadh agir d leithid ar gharsn Do chuirfeadh s cochall ar ghrin; ' D o s c a i p f e a d h a n o c h e a r fud a n m h e n l a e , Do bhainfeadh an teanga den abhainn, Do chuirfeadh coir drise in intinn na n - a n Is do lonfadh le nire an d o m h a n . ' T a n b u a c h a i l l s e o dall a r a n a i g n e fhiin A t h o i r c h o n n s m a o i n t e agsla G a n bacadh le h A b n le clog n le riail A c h l u i sios l e s m a o i n e a m h a d h i l e . ' N bhlaisfidh s c h o c h e t r a n m h e i s c e m n A chorraonn m a r c h r e i d e a m h na slibhte, ' T h u g largas d o D a n t e a r F h l a i t h e a s D t r t h , N u a i r a t h u i r l i n g na h a i n g i l i r i o c h t v c a r s a i , '

I.'O

Perspiration on the beads gripped in my hands, M y trousers stuck t o m y knees, A h o o d e d p r o c e s s i o n o f m o n k s g l i d e d past; T h o u g h i t w o u l d have b e e n vulgar t o stare, Stare at t h e m I did, w i t h o u t pity or c o m p a s s i o n As the J e w s stared l o n g ago At Lazarus shyly issuing f r o m t h e t o m b , T h e i r k e e n e y e s all r o u n d b u r n i n g h i m . T h e y filed past u s o n e b y o n e , A c e m e t e r y in p e r p e t u a l prayer, A n d a thick cloud of sepulchral m i l d e w S e t t l e d like m e l a n c h o l y o n t h e e v e n i n g ' s c h e e k . ' D e a t h casts a frost o v e r life h e r e , T h e m o n k s a r e his r e t i n u e , H e the A b b o t they serve, It's for h i m t h e y e n d u r e fast a n d a b s t i n e n c e . ' A y o u t h w a l k i n g like a n enfeebled old m a n Is an insult to t h e m e r c y of G o d ; W h o e v e r w o u l d inflict s u c h w r o n g o n a b o y W o u l d pull a h o o d o v e r the sun; ' W o u l d s p r e a d n i g h t across m i d d a y , W o u l d rip the t o n g u e from the river, Plant lechery in t h e m i n d s of birds A n d fill t h e w o r l d w i t h s h a m e . 'This boy is blind to the wild imagination T h a t fertilises d i v e r s i t y o f t h o u g h t , T h a t cares n o t h i n g for A b b o t o r b e l l o r r u l e B u t lies d o w n w i t h its d e e p e s t d e s i r e . ' H e will n e v e r b e w o m a n - d r u n k W i t h the longing that m o v e s m o u n t a i n s , T h e d e s i r e t h a t o n c e o p e n e d t h e h e a v e n s for D a n t e W h e n angels d e s c e n d e d in the shape of verses.'

I.'I

Sin d i r t a n e g o b h i u a i b h r e a c h e a s u m h a l , Is dallta le feirg an tsaoil, A c h d o s m a o i n i o s a r ball, i s a n c e o l o s r g c i o n n , G u r m n an duine an tread. D ' f h a c h a s laistiar d o m a r fhsach m o s h a o i l , Is an paidrn brite im dhid, Peaca, d i o m h a o i n t e a s is caiteachas claon, Blianta u r g h r n n a n e a n t g . D'fhachas ar bheatha na manach anonn, D'aithnos dn ar an dtoirt, Meadaracht, glaine, d o i m h i n b h r i is c o m h f h u a i m , B h i m ' a i g n e c r o m t h a l e ceist. D o bhlaiseas m r f h u a s c a i l t n a faoistine a r m a i d i n , A i s e a g is u a l a c h ar c e a l , Scaoileadh an t-ancaire, rinceas sa Laidin, Ba dhbair d o m tuirling ar N e a m h . A c h d o b h l a i s e a s , u a i r e i l e , i o n t a o i b h a s a m fin, M o c h u i d fola a r f i u c h a d h l e n e a r t , Do shamhlaios gur lonnaigh im intinn Spiorad N a o m h Is g u r thiteadar m'fhocail N e a m h . B u a r a c h a r m ' a i g n e Eaglais D , Ar shagart do ghlaofainn coillten, Balchrifeacht an C r e i d e a m h , 61 gloine gan lean, M a i r f e a m g o d t i o c f a i d h a n bs! Manaigh m a r bheachaibh ag fuaimint im cheann, M ' a i g n e c r o m t h a l e ceist, N t a a g r o t h a i o c h t a n o n n i s anall, Deireadh le C o m p l i n de gheit. S r a n n t a r n a c h na s t o i r m e i M e l l e r arir Is laethanta an pheaca b h o i g m a r bhreoiteacht ar mo c h u i m h n e Is na l a e t h a n t a a l e a n f a i d h iad f c h e i l t i n d o r n D , A c h g r e i m fhir b h i t e a r M h e l l e r i a n siigan s e o filiochta.

So spoke the arrogant, insubordinate ego, B l i n d w i t h t h e w o r l d ' s fury; B u t I t h o u g h t later, a s m u s i c p e a l e d o v e r u s , T h a t t h e i n d i v i d u a l i s less t h a n t h e c o n g r e g a t i o n . I l o o k e d b a c k a t t h e w a s t e o f m y life, W i t h t h e b e a d s still t i g h t i n m y fist, Sin, i d l e n e s s , b e n t p r o d i g a l i t y A ghastly n e t t l e - b e d of y e a r s . I l o o k e d a t t h e life o f t h e m o n k s And recognised there the form of a p o e m M e a s u r e , clarity, p r o f u n d i t y a n d h a r m o n y M y m i n d b u c k l e d u n d e r t h e w e i g h t o f its q u e s t i o n s . T h i s m o r n i n g I s a v o u r e d t h e release o f C o n f e s s i o n , R e s t o r a t i o n , a l o a d laid a s i d e , T h e a n c h o r w a s raised, I d a n c e d i n L a t i n A n d a l m o s t set f o o t i n H e a v e n . But I s a v o u r e d t o o , o n c e m o r e , o v e r - c o n f i d e n c e : My blood coursing with delight, I i m a g i n e d t h e H o l y Spirit t o o k u p r e s i d e n c e i n m e , That m y w o r d s h a d t h e i r o r i g i n i n H e a v e n . I li.it G o d ' s c h u r c h w a s a s p a n c e l o n m y m i n d , The priest a e u n u c h , t h e F a i t h M e r c lip-service; drink up w i t h o u t anguish, I ct's live till we d i e ! The m o n k s s o u n d i n g t h r o u g h m y h e a d l i k e b e e s , My m i n d buckled from questioning, Sung notes wheeling hither and thither: Suddenly C o m p l i n e was over. I h e s n o r i n g o f t h e s t o r m i n M e l l e r a y last n i g h t A n d days o f soft sin o n m y m e m o r y like s i c k n e s s , I he days thai will f o l l o w t h e m lie h i d d e n in G o d ' s fist, But a d r o w n i n g m a n ' s g r i p on M e l l e r a y is t h i s t w i s t of p o e t r y . translated by Patrick < Wotty

I.' \

SIOLLABADH B h i banaltra in otharlann I n g i l e an t r t h n n a , Is c u i s l e a n n a i l e a p a c h a i b h Ag preabarnaigh go tomhaiste, D o sheas s i o s g a c h leaba A g u s d ' f h a n s i seal a g c o m h a i r e a m h I s d o b h r e a c s i sios a n m h e a d a r a c h t B h i a g s i o l l a b a d h ina m e o r a i b h , Is do shiollaib si go r i t h i m e a c h F d h e i r e a d h as an s e o m r a , Is d'fhg na diaidh m a r chlaisceadal Na cuisleanna ag c o m h a i r e a m h : Ansin do leath an tAngelus Im-shiollabchrith ar bheolaibh, A c h do thinig ag ar A m e n i b h M a r chogarnach sa tseomra: D o l e a n a d h leis a n g c a n t a i r e a c h t I m a i n i s t i r na feola, N a cuisleanna m a r m h a n a c h a i b h Ag siollabadh na nnta.

CLAUSTROPHOBIA I n aice a n f h i o n a T coinneal is sceon, T a dealbh m o Thiarna D ' r i r dealraimh gan c h o m h a c h t , T a dtiocfaidh d e n oiche M a r shluaite sa chls, T rialtas na hoiche Lasmuigh den bhfuinneoig; M m h c h a n n m o choinneal A r ball d c m ' a i n n e o i n Limfidh an oiche Isteach i m s c a m h i g ,

SYLLABLING A n u r s e w a s in a h o s p i t a l In the afternoon brightness A n d pulses t h e r e w e r e t h r o b b i n g Regularly in beds; She stood before each bed-stead A n d stayed a short w h i l e c o u n t i n g , Jotting d o w n the measure Syllabling in each wrist; S h e syllabled h e r s e l f a t l e n g t h Rhythmically from the ward A n d left b e h i n d a c h o r u s O f pulses k e e p i n g t i m e : I t w a s t h e n t h e A n g e l u s s p r e a d its S y l l a b l e - s h a k e across lips t h e r e Till A n i e n s d i e d a w a y Like whispering in the ward: But the m u r m u r i n g continued I n t h e m o n a s t e r y o f flesh, T h e pulses g o i n g l i k e m o n k s Syllabling their plain-chant. translated by Patrick Crotty

CLAUSTROPHOBIA Next to the wine Stand a candle and terror, T h e statue o f m y Lord Bereft o f its p o w e r ; W h a t ' s left o f t h e n i g h t Is m a s s i n g in t h e y a r d , Night's empire Is outside the w i n d o w ; If my c a n d l e fails 1 V s p i t e my efforts T h e n i g h t will leap Right i n t o m y l u n g s ,

Srfar m ' i n t i n n Is ceapfar d o m s c e o n , Danfar d o m oche, Bead im dhoircheacht bheo: Ach m mhaireann mo choinneal Aon oche amhin B e a d i m p h o b l a c h t solais Go dtiocfaidh an l

REO M a i d i n sheaca ghabhas a m a c h I s b h sel p c a r o m h a m a r s c e a c h , R u g a s air l e c u r i m p h c a A c h sciorr s u a i m m a r b h i s reoite: N i hadach b e o a lim m ghlaic A c h r u d fuair bs arir a r s c e a c h : Is sid ag taighde m f m ' i n t i n n Go bhfuaireas macasamhail an ni seo L dar phgas b e a n d e m m h u i n t i r Is i i n a c n r a r e o i t e , s i n t e .

F1ABHRAS T slibhte na leapa m s ard, T a b r e o i t e a c h t ' n a b r o t h a l l ' n a lr, Is fada an t - a i s t e a r u r l r , Is na m i l t e is na m i l t e i g c i n Ta s u i a g u s s e a s a m h sa saol. A t i m i d i gceantar brilln, Ar igean ms c u i m h i n linn cathaoir, A c h b h i t r t h sar b a m h a c h a i r e s i n n , In a i m s i r c h o i s o c h t a fad, G o i n b i n n s c h o m h hard l e f u i n n e o g ,

M y m i n d will collapse A n d t e r r o r b e m a d e for m e , T a k e n over by night, I'll b e d a r k n e s s alive: B u t i f m y c a n d l e lasts J u s t this o n e n i g h t I'll b e a r e p u b l i c o f l i g h t Until dawn. translated by Patrick Crotty

FROZEN STIFF A s I w e n t o u t o n e frosty m o r n i n g A h a n d k e r c h i e f lay b e f o r e m e o n a b u s h . I grasped it to p u t it in my p o c k e t But, frozen, it slithered away. N o living cloth leaped from m y h a n d B u t a t h i n g t h a t d i e d last n i g h t o n a b u s h : R u m m a g i n g then the depths of my m i n d I c a m e up w i t h t h i s parallel T h e day I kissed a w o m a n of my p e o p l e A n d s h e i n h e r coffin, f r o z e n , s t r e t c h e d . translated by Patrick Crotty

FEVER T h e m o u n t a i n s o f t h e b e d are h i g h , T h e sick-valley sultry w i t h heat, It's a l o n g w a y d o w n t o t h e f l o o r , A n d miles and miles further To a w o r l d of w o r k and leisure. W e ' r e in a land of sheets W h e r e chairs h a v e n o m e a n i n g , But t h e r e w a s a t i m e b e f o r e this l e v e l l e d t i m e , A walking time long ago. W h e n we were high as a window.

T p i c t i i r a r a n bhfalla a g at, T a n frma i m i t h e i n a l a c h t , C e a l c r e i d i m h n i fidir b h a c , T nithe ag druidim fm dhin, Is b r a i t h i m ag t i t i m an saol. T c e a n t a r a g taisteal n s p i r , T c o m h a r s a n a c h t suite a r m o m h a r , D o b fhuirist d o m b r e i t h a r s h i p a l , T ba ar an m b t h a r t h u a i d h , I s nil b a n a s o r a o c h t a c h o m h c i u i n .

DM

T h e picture on t h e wall is h e a v i n g , T h e f r a m e has l i q u e f i e d , W i t h o u t faith I c a n ' t h o l d it at b a y , Everything's driving at me A n d I feel t h e w o r l d falling a w a y . A w h o l e district's a r r i v i n g f r o m t h e s k y , A n e i g h b o u r h o o d ' s set u p o n m y f i n g e r , Easy n o w to g r a b a c h u r c h T h e r e are c o w s o n the n o r t h e r n r o a d A n d t h e c o w s o f eternity are n o t s o quiet. translated by Patrick Crotty

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V A L E N T I N

I R E M O N G E R

Born D u b l i n , 1918. E d u c a t e d at Synge Street Christian Brothers' School, Coliste M h u i r e and the A b b e y T h e a t r e School of Acting. A c t o r and p r o d u c e r at A b b e y and Gate theatres, 1 9 4 0 - 6 . Entered Irish diplomatic service, 1946. Ambassador to S w e d e n , N o r w a y and Finland (1964-8), India (1968-73), L u x e m b o u r g (1973-9) and Portugal (1979-83). Poetry editor of Envoy, 1 9 4 9 - 5 1 . C o - e d i t e d Contemporary Irish Poetry (1949) with R o b e r t Greacen. Translated M i c i Mac Gabhann's Rothai Mora an tSaoil as Tlie Hard Road to Klondike (1962) and Dnal Mac Amhlaigh's Dialann Deorai as An Irish Navvy, the Diary of an Exile (1964). D i e d 1991. I r e m o n g e r w r o t e a small n u m b e r of impressive lyrics in his late twenties and very little thereafter. 'This H o u r e H e r Vigill' negotiates a debt to J o h n C r o w e Ransom to vindicate itself as an authentic and m e m o r a b l e elegy. 'Clear V i e w in S u m m e r ' is perhaps the most spacious of half a d o z e n or so meditations on the tyranny of t i m e - a t h e m e w h i c h obsessed I r e m o n g e r and may have silenced h i m . T h e syncopated rhythms and nonchalant pose o f ' I c a r u s ' provided a lead no Irish p o e t w o u l d follow for decades.

THIS H O U R E HER VIGILL E l i z a b e t h , frigidly s t r e t c h e d , On a spring day surprised us W i t h her starched dignity and the quietness O f h e r h a n d s c l a s p i n g a b l a c k cross. W i t h b o o k a n d c a n d l e a n d h o l y w a t e r dish She received us in the r o o m with the blind d o w n . H e r e y e s w e r e p e c u l i a r l y c l o s e d a n d w e k n e l t shyly N o t i c i n g the blot of her hair on the w h i t e pillow. W e m e t t h a t e v e n i n g b y t h e c r u m b l i n g wall I n t h e field b e h i n d t h e h o u s e w h e r e I lived A n d t a l k e d i t o v e r , b u t c o u l d find n o r e a s o n W h y she h a d left u s w h o m s h e had h k c d s o m u c h .
I K)

D e a t h , yes, w e u n d e r s t o o d : s o m e t h i n g t o d o W i t h age and decay, d e c r e p i t b o d i e s ; B u t h e r e w a s this v i g o r o u s o n e , a l o o f a n d p r i m , W h o w o u l d n o t a n s w e r o u r furtive whispers. N e x t m o r n i n g , h e a r i n g t h e p r i e s t call h e r n a m e , I f l e d o u t s i d e , b e i n g full o f c e r t a i n t y , A n d cried m y s e v e n years against t h e c h u r c h ' s s t o n e wall. F o r e i g h t e e n years I did n o t speak h e r n a m e U n t i l this a u t u m n d a y w h e n , i n a g a l e , A s a p l i n g fell o u t s i d e m y w i n d o w , its b r a n c h e s Rebelliously blotting the lawn's green. Suddenly, I t h o u g h t O f E l i z a b e t h , frigidly s t r e t c h e d .

CLEAR VIEW IN SUMMER I leavy w i t h leaves t h e g a r d e n b u s h e s again S u n , a n d t h e t r e e s a d m i r e t h e m , lazily. ( .ibbages a n d c a r n a t i o n s , drills a n d b e d s o f t h e m , d r o o p t i r e d l y A n d far a w a y t h e hills, l i k e d r y d o g s , c r o u c h i n g , s q u e a l for w a t e r .
I
live,

w h o is it w h i s p e r s e v e r y t h i n g is in o r d e r

< ) n this s u m m e r a f t e r n o o n , w h e n n o t h i n g m o v e s , n o t e v e n t h e Hies, s t r a n g e l y , A s w e relax b y t h e l a w n , h e r e u n d e r t h e p e a r - t r e e , w a t c h i n g idly I he leaves declining, t h e s h a d o w s surely l e n g t h e n . Iiui i t w o n ' t b e a l w a y s s u m m e r - n o t for u s ; t h e r e are b a d t i m e s coming W h e n y o u a n d I will l o o k w i t h e n v y on old p h o t o g r a p h s , R e m e m b e r i n g h o w w e s t o o d , t h e r e i n t h e sun, l o o k i n g like gods, W h i l e t h e days o f o u r lives, l i k e fruit, s w e l l e d a n d d e c a y e d , And h o w , by the lake, Its surface, o n e A u g u s t e v e n i n g , u n c h i p p e d , w a l k i n g , w e l a u g h e d V . l o v e s l i p p e d his a r m s t h r o u g h o u r s a n d w e g l a d l y f o l l o w e d I h e p a t h h e s h o w e d u s t h r o u g h life's valley r u n n i n g . I h c r e ' l l be mm h to re< .ill t h e n , w h e n , like w e t late s u m m e r leaves,
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T h e days u n d e r o u r t r e a d d o n ' t r u s t l e , n o o t h e r s u m m e r w a i t i n g A r o u n d the turn of a n e w year w i t h rich clothes to grace us W h o s e subtle b e a u t y will h a v e l o n g since languished; A n d N a t u r e ' s flashing g r e e n n e s s w i l l s t i t c h u p o u r h e a r t s w i t h anguish Each day w h e n A u g u s t w i t h sunlight riddles t h e branches, the leaves taking V o l u p t u o u s l y t h e s o u t h w e s t w i n d ' s caresses Y e a r after d y i n g y e a r . A n d yet t h e declension of each following season, each day's D e f e c t i o n , splits o p e n o u r h o p e o n l y a n d n o t o u r c o u r a g e , safe and sound I n t h e d e e p s h e l t e r o f o u r a w a r e n e s s ; t h e b u s h e s a n d tall t r e e s Flourish a n d g o d o w n u n c o n s c i o u s l y i n defeat W h i l e full-grown m a n , w h o s e pride the angels w e e p , W a t c h e s l o v e itself g u t t e r o u t s o m e dull e v e n i n g , n o b o d y a r o u n d . W i n t e r m o v i n g i n , n o fuel left, t h e lights n o t w o r k i n g , t h e lease U n r e n e w a b l e , s u m m e r a s e l d o m - r e m e m b e r e d scat-phrase.

ICARUS As, e v e n to-day, the airman, feeling the plane sweat S u d d e n l y , s e e i n g t h e h o r i z o n tilt u p g r a v e l y , t h e w i n g s s h i v e r , K n o w s t h a t , for o n c e , D a e d a l u s has s l i p p e d u p b a d l y , D r u n k o n t h e j o b , p e r h a p s , m o r e likely d r e a m i n g , high-flier Icarus, H e a d b u t t i n g d o w n , s k i d d i n g a l o n g the light-shafts Back, o v e r the tones of the sea-waves and the slip-stream, heard T h e g r a v e l - v o i c e d , s t u t t e r i n g t r u m p e t s o f his h e a r t S e n n e t a m o n g t h e c r u m b l i n g c o u r t - y a r d s o f his b r a i n t h e m i s t a k e O f t r u s t i n g s o m e b o d y else o n a n i m p o r t a n t affair l i k e this; A n d , w h i l e t h e flat sea, a p p r o a c h i n g , b u c k l e d i n t o o h ! a v e n u e s O f a c c l a m a t i o n , h e s a w t h e w r o n g s t o r y fan o u t i n t o h i s t o r y , T r u t h , u n d e f i n e d , lost i n his o w n n e g l e c t . O n t h e hills, T h e s u m m e r - s h a c k l e d hills, t h e s u n s p a n g e d all d a y ; L o v e a n d t h e w o r l d w e r e y o u n g and there was n o ending:

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B u t star-chaser, b i g - t i m e - g o i n g , c h a n c e r Icarus L i k e a d o g o n t h e sea lay a n d t h e girls f o r g o t h i m , A n d Daedalus, too busy h a m m e r i n g another j o b , R e m e m b e r e d h i m o n l y i n p u b s . N o b u g l e r a t all S o b b e d taps for t h e y o u n g fool t h e n , r e p o r t e d m i s s i n g , P r e s u m e d d r o w n e d , w i n g - b o n e s and leathers on the tide D r i f t i n g i n casually, o n e b y o n e .

F E R G U S

A L L E N

Born L o n d o n , of Irish father, 1921. M o v e d to D u b l i n at six m o n t h s . Educated at N e w t o w n School, Waterford, and T r i n i t y College Dublin. L o n g career in British civil service (as, inter alia, director of hydraulics research and First Civil Service C o m m i s s i o n e r ) . Has lived in Berkshire since his r e t i r e m e n t . Allen was in his seventy-third year w h e n his first collection of p o e m s was published. He writes gracefully and w i t h an almost h e r m e t i c self-possession in a variety of styles, m a n y of his p o e m s c o m b i n i n g a taste for the exotic w i t h a n o t e of resignation. ' T h e Fall', an uncharacteristic foray into light verse, seems destined for immortality as a recitation piece.

ELEGY FOR FAUSTINA F a u s t i n a , i f t h a t w a s y o u r n a m e , y o u are d e a d , A n d y o u r beauty, w h i c h sculptors hinted at in stone A n d poets expanded their language to render in words, Is less t h a n a c o b w e b in a s c h o l a r ' s m i n d . A n d n o w I ( h o w foolish i t s o u n d s ) feel for y o u s o m e t h i n g At all costs let us n o t call it l o v e . B u t t h e r e are n i g h t s w h e n i n s t e a d o f s l e e p i n g I t h i n k o f y o u A n d lie f e v e r i s h l y a w a k e o n k n i v e s o f r o s e s , A n d as it w e r e t h r o u g h a crack in an e m b a n k m e n t B e s i e g i n g s o r r o w e n t e r s , a n d r i d i c u l o u s tears E x u d e from m y prosaic m u d - c o l o u r e d eyes. L a t e r I s l e e p , d r e a m i n g p e r h a p s o f streets a n d b u s e s . O r i n t h e sunlight, w a l k i n g t h r o u g h the streets, M y tie n e a t l y k n o t t e d a n d m y h a i r s m o o t h e d d o w n , T o all a p p e a r a n c e s l i k e s o m e o n e i n his s e n s e s , T h e r e are days w h e n i t s e e m s y o u are c o n t i n u a l l y p r e s e n t A n d I t h i n k o f y o t i r c r e a m - c o l o u r e d b o d y , y o u r c a r m i n e lips A n d y o u r i m p o s s i b l e p r i d e (for that I b l a m e y o u r p a r e n t s ) .

B u t e a c h t i m e , a s t h o u g h t h r o u g h d e p t h s o f glass, I see y o u S u r r o u n d e d by netted birds and captured lovers, I r e m e m b e r today's ruin w h i c h tourists y a w n at W a s t h e t e m p l e w h e r e s e l f - c o n s u m i n g c a n d l e s flared, T h a t Venus was s o m e o n e important w h e n y o u w e r e y o u n g A n d t h e fixed stars w e r e fixed i n d i f f e r e n t p l a c e s .

T H E FALL T h e G a r d e n of E d e n (described in the Bible) W a s Guinness's Brewery (mentioned by Joyce), W h e r e innocent A d a m and Eve were created A n d d w e l t from necessity rather than c h o i c e ; F o r n o t h i n g existed b u t Guinness's B r e w e r y , G u i n n e s s ' s B r e w e r y o c c u p i e d all, Guinness's Brewery everywhere, anywhere W o e t h a t e x p u l s i o n s u c c e e d e d t h e Fall! T h e ignorant pair w e r e e n c o u r a g e d i n d r i n k i n g W h a t e v e r t h e y fancied w h e n e v e r t h e y could, E x c e p t for t h e p o r t e r o r s t o u t w h i c h e m b o d i e d D e l e c t a b l e k n o w l e d g e o f Evil a n d G o o d . In Guinness's Brewery, innocent, happy, T h e y t e n d e d t h e silos a n d c o p p e r s a n d v a t s , T h e y p o l i s h e d t h e e n g i n e s a n d c o o p e r e d t h e barrels A n d e v e n m a d e p e t s o f t h e B r e w e r y rats. O n e m o r n i n g while A d a m was b r o o d i n g and b r e w i n g I t h a p p e n e d t h a t E v e h a d g o n e off o n h e r o w n , W h e n a s e r p e n t l i k e ivy slid u p t o h e r softly And m u r m u r e d seductively, Are we alone? O E v e , said t h e s e r p e n t , I b e g y o u t o s a m p l e A b o t t l e of G u i n n e s s ' s e x c e l l e n t s t o u t , W h o s e n u t r i t i v e q u a l i t i e s n o o n e can q u e s t i o n A n d s t i m u l a n t p r o p e r t i e s n o o n e can d o u b t ;

i IS

It's t o n i c , e n l i v e n i n g , s t r e n g t h e n i n g , h e a r t e n i n g , L o a d e d w i t h vitamins, straight from the w o o d , A n d further enriched with the not undesirable L u c r a t i v e k n o w l e d g e o f Evil a n d G o o d . So E v e was persuaded and A d a m was t e m p t e d , T h e y fell a n d t h e y d r a n k a n d c o n t i n u e d t o d r i n k (Their singing and dancing and shouting and prancing Prevented the serpent from sleeping a wink). Alas, w h e n t h e c o u p l e h a d f i n i s h e d a b a r r e l A n d s w a l l o w e d t h e final i n f o r m a t i v e d r o p s , T h e y l o o k e d at each o t h e r and k n e w they w e r e naked A n d covered their intimate bodies with hops. T h e anger a n d rage o f t h e L o r d w e r e appalling, H e w r a t h f u l l y c u r s e d t h e m for t a k i n g t o d r i n k A n d h o u n d e d them out of the Brewery, followed By beetles (magenta) and elephants (pink). T h e crapulous couple e m e r g e d to discover A u n i v e r s e full of diseases a n d c r i m e s , W h e r e p o r t e r c o u l d o n l y b e p u r c h a s e d for m o n e y In specified places at specified times. A n d n o w i n this w o r l d o f c o n f u s i o n a n d e r r o r O u r o n l y salvation a n d h o p e is to try T o threaten and bargain o u r w a y into H e a v e n By drinking the heavenly B r e w e r y dry.

M I R E

M H A C

A N

T S A O I

Born into p r o m i n e n t republican family, D u b l i n , 1922. Learned Irish as a child in west Kerry Gaeltacht. Educated at University College D u b l i n and the S o r b o n n e . A b a n d o n e d Celtic studies for law degree and career in Irish diplomatic service in Paris and Madrid. Lived in Ghana and N e w Y o r k before settling in D u b l i n in late 1960s. W r o t e A Concise History of Ireland (1972) w i t h her husband, C o n o r Cruise O ' B r i e n . Mire M h a c an tSaoi's poetry is notable for its vernacular purity and its continuity with the idioms and motifs of traditional song. H e r early w o r k , w h i c h unsentimentally portrays the sexuality of y o u n g w o m a n h o o d , has received most critical attention, t h o u g h she has p r o d u c e d p o e m s of distinction in all phases of her career. ' C e a t h r i n t Mhire N O g i n ' explores an unhappy love affair in the persona of Mire Ni Ogin, mistress of the e i g h t e e n t h - c e n t u r y poet D o n n c h a Rua Mac C o n m a r a . ' N b a g d a n a m h Mire N i Ogin dot fin' - ' D o n ' t be m a k i n g a Mary H o g a n [that is, a fool] of yourself - is a M u n s t e r p r o v e r b .

17

CAOINEADH G l r goil a r a n n g a o i t h Is b r a t sine l i a t h a i g h s p a r t h a , Ise d o b ille fg i n a l u Ina caoluaigh c h u n g ina haonar. Tiocfaidh a n l e o i t h n e b h o g aniar Is an d u i l l i r r ar l o m a g h a g a , L o n f a i d h r is i r e o i d h g r i a n , I n a g c r s a s o r triallfaidh ralta; Is as an g c r t os a c i o n n , As a h u c h t geal, as a c a o m h c h o r p , T r a o i b h a n lae i s d e o r a n n d r u c h t , T r f h d a n o s fsfaidh fara A c h choche n cmfar ceol ceart, Feasta, n c a o i n v a r s a ; Cailleann anois an c r o a neart, Is an m h e a b h a i r g h l i c , c a i l l e a n n a h i f e a c h t .

C E A T H R I N T MHIRE N GIN

A c h a m b e a d gafa as an l i o n s e o Is n r lige D i a g u r fada san Bidir go bhfnfaidh c u i m h n e a m h Ar a bhfuaireas de s h u a i m h n e a s id bhaclainn. Nuair a bheidh ar mo chumas guochtaint, C o m a o i n e is isteacht Aifrinn, C darfaidh ansan nach cu d h o m A r ' s h o n s a i s a r m o s h o n fin a c h a i n e ? A c h c o m h a i r l e idir dha' linn d u i t , Na' tir r d h l i s in a c h r a n n ,
i w

LAMENT T h e s o u n d o f tears o n t h e w i n d A n d s t o r m - c l o u d s d a r k e n i n g t h e skies; S h e , t h e l o v e l i e s t , let h e r lie I n h e r little n a r r o w g r a v e o n h e r o w n . F r o m t h e w e s t t h e gentle b r e e z e will c o m e A n d t h e fresh leaf o n b o u g h s n o w b a r e , M o o n will w a x a n d s u n will rise, A n d t h e stars r e s u m e t h e i r c o u r s e s ; A n d f r o m t h e clay a b o v e h e r , F r o m h e r bright breast, from h e r dear corpse, T h r o u g h t h e d a y ' s b e a u t y a n d t h e d e w ' s tears, U p t h r o u g h t h e s o d will g r o w grasses B u t n e v e r will appropriate m u s i c b e c o m p o s e d , N o n e v e r , n o r delicate verses; N o w t h e h e a r t loses i t s t r e n g t h , A n d t h e q u i c k m i n d , i t loses its usefulness. translated by Patrick Crotty

MARY H O G A N ' S QUATRAINS I If I o n c e g o t free of this n e t A n d G o d grant that w o n ' t be t o o l o n g I c o u l d p e r h a p s live o n t h e m e m o r y O f t h e ease I f o u n d i n y o u r a r m s . W h e n I learn again h o w to pray, H e a r Mass a n d g o t o C o m m u n i o n , W h o ' l l say t h e n it's n o t r i g h t T o s t o r m h e a v e n for y o u a n d for m e . Hut .1 bit <>! a d v i c e in t h e m e a n t i m e I )mi ( M i t o o fondly atta< lied;
i 19

M a r go bhfuilimse meite ar scaoileadh Pc c u i b h r i n n a s n a i d h m f e a r e a d r a i n n .

II

Beagbhean ar amhras daoine, B e a g b h e a n a r c h r o s n a sagart, Ar gach ni ach a b h e i t h sinte I d i r t a g u s falla N e a m h s h u i m Horn f u a c h t n a h o i c h e , N e a m h s h u m l i o m scrb i s f e a r t h a i n n , Sa d o m h a n c n g ruin teolai seo N tann thar fhaobhar na leapan Ar a bhfuil r o m h a i n n ni s m a o i n f e a m , Ar a bhfuil danta cheana, L i n n e a n u a i n , a c h r o i istigh, Is mairfidh si go m a i d i n . Ill A c h a r bliana atim A g l u i farat i d c h l i d , D e a c a i r a n o i s a r C a d leis a r a i b h m o shuil! Ghabhais de chosaibh i gcion A t u g a d h c h o m h fial ar d t i s , G a n a i t h i n t fin fed t h r o i g h F u l a g na feola a b h r i g h ! Is fs t an c r e a t u m h a l Ar mhaithe le seanagheallint, A c h thost cantain an c h r o i T r n n thas n a b p l e i s i r . IV T na an ada ag deol mo ch'se, Is m ag tl air de 16 is d ' o i c h e ; An grlach g r n n a .ig c u r na bhfiacal, Is de n i m h a g h r e a m a mo chuisle lionta.
Mil

For I am intent on breaking E v e r y b o n d t h e r e c o u l d ever b e b e t w e e n us.

II

A fig for p e o p l e ' s o p i n i o n s , A fig for t h e p r i e s t ' s i n t e r d i c t i o n s , For everything b u t lying stretched B e t w e e n y o u a n d t h e wall T h e freezing night is n o t h i n g , A n d n o t h i n g t h e driving rain T o t h e s e c r e t w o r l d o f w a r m t h t h a t spans F r o m o n e side o f t h e b e d t o t h e o t h e r . N o n e e d t o think o f the future N o r o f w h a t has g o n e b e f o r e N o w is the h o u r , dear heart: It will last u n t i l m o r n i n g .
Ill

A w h o l e year n o w I've spent Stretched b e n e a t h y o u r quilt, It's difficult at this stage to say W h a t I w a s h o p i n g t o gain! Y o u r feet t r o d all o v e r W h a t w a s g i v e n s o freely a t first, W h i l e y o u h a d n e v e r a t h o u g h t for W h a t trampled flesh must endure. A n d still t h e b o d y s u b m i t s F o r t h e sake o f a n a n c i e n t p r o m i s e , B u t n o w t h a t t h e s o n g has b e e n stilled i n m y h I )e light ebbs f r o m o u r l o v e - m a k i n g . IV T h e c h i l d o f j e a l o u s y i s s u c k l i n g m y breast I le d e m a n d s it by d a y a n d by night I Ic 's an Ugly w h e l p a n d he 's Cutting Ins t e e t h ,
I I n I I grip tills H I V v e i n s w i t h p o i s o n

A ghr, n maireadh an tr b e a g eadrainn, Is a f h o l l i n e , s h l i n e a b h r n - a i t h n e ; B a r n t a s cnis a c h l o g h l e m c h n e a s airsin, Is sala l i m h e a r a i b h g a c h c e a d aici. Fach nach meite m ar chion a shanadh, C gur shigh an t-amhras go d o i m h i n a phra A r lir d h e a - t h a r r a i c n d a n i g e a n , Is d o l f a i d h si an c o m h a r leat i n a sasr f i n i g .

Is a c h t a c h an r u d an p h i a n , M a r chaitheann an cliabh, I s n t u g a n n f a o i s e a m h n sps N snas d e l n d ' o c h ' A n t at i b p i n m a r t i m N raibh u a i g n e a c h n ina a o n a r r i a m h , A c h ag i o m p a r cuileachtan de shor M a r b h e a n g i n fna c o i m .
VI

' N c h o d l a m ist o c h e ' B e a g a n r, a c h a n b h f i o n n f a r c h o c h e A r s h i l e oscailte Ualach na hoche? VII Fada liom anocht! Do bh ann oche N r b h fhada faratsa D leomhfainn cuimhneamh. G o d e i m h i n n o r d h e a c a i r san, An r d a d'fhillfinn D mba cheadaithe T a r is a i t h r a n n .

I l !

D o n ' t let t h e little w r e t c h d i v i d e u s , l o v e , So w h o l e s o m e a n d healthy was o u r matini Skin to skin was o u r u n i o n ' s g u a r a n t e e , Its seal a h a n d g r a n t e d e v e r y f r e e d o m . L o o k , I've n o w i s h t o d e n y affection, Even if doubt's roots have driven deep; D o n ' t force a reliable m a r e , a n d she'll Serve y o u well in the future.

P a i n is a w o n d e r f u l t h i n g ! H o w it wears out the rib-cage, A n d gives n o relief n o r respite By day or by night T h e p e r s o n i n p a i n like m e C a n n e v e r b e solitary, Carrying an eternal c o m p a n i o n Like a m o t h e r carrying h e r u n b o r n child.
VI

'I d o n ' t s l e e p at n i g h t ' A n easy b o a s t , b u t w h o c a n m e a s u r e T h e weight of the night O n o p e n eyes?

VII

H o w l o n g t o n i g h t is! T h e r e was o n c e a night We did n o t think long If I d a r e to r e m e m b e r . T h e road I'd follow W o u l d be no hard road If return were permitted After r e p e n t a n c e .

14.1

L u c h u n suilt Is ir c h u n aoibhnis Sid ba chleachtadh d h i n n D b h f a i g h i n n d u l siar air.

L y i n g d o w n for p l e a s u r e A n d rising w i t h delight Such was o u r practice If I c o u l d o n l y r e s u m e it. translated by Patrick Crotty

I'

P E A R S E

H U T C H I N S O N

Born Glasgow, of Irish parents, 1927. M o v e d to D u b l i n , 1932. Educated at Synge Street Christian Brothers' School and University College Dublin. Translator with International Labour Organisation, Geneva, 1 9 5 1 - 3 . D r a m a critic, Radio Eireann, 1 9 5 7 - 6 1 . Lived in Spain for m u c h of the 1960s. Gregory Fellow in Poetry, University of Leeds, 1 9 7 1 - 3 . F o u n d e r and co-editor of the literary magazine Cyphers. Has translated extensively from Catalan and o t h e r Iberian languages. H u t c h i n s o n writes in English and Irish. His w o r k in b o t h languages is distinguished by its geniality and its concern for social justice. In English, in particular, he is capable of an unusual lyric grace. These qualities make any collection by H u t c h i n s o n highly readable, t h o u g h some readers may regret the informal, occasional quality of the greater n u m b e r of his poems.

MALAGA for Sammy Sheridan T h e scent of unseen jasmine on the w a r m night beach. T h e t r a m a l o n g t h e sea r o a d all t h e w a y f r o m t o w n t h r o u g h its w i d e o p e n sides d r a n k u n s e e n j a s m i n e d o w n . L i v i n g w a s n o t h i n g all t h o s e n i g h t s b u t t h a t s t r o n g f l o w e r , w h o s e h i d d e n voice on darkness grew to such m a d p o w e r I c o u l d h a v e s w o r n for o n c e I t r a v e l l e d t h r o u g h full p e a c e a n d e v e n l o v e a t last h a d p e r f e c t c a l m release only by breathing in the unseen jasmine scent, that ruled us and the s u m m e r every h o u r we w e n t . T h e tranquil unrushed w i n e d r u n k on the daytime beach. O r f r o m a n o p e n r o o m all t h a t o u r sight c o u l d r e a c h w a s h e a t , sea, l i g h t , u n e n d i n g i m a g e s o f p e a c e ; iiid d u n a t last t h e n i g h t b r o u g h t j a s m i n e ' s g r e a t release D O ! i m a g e s b u t calm u n c o v e t o u s c o n t e n t , d i e w i d e - e y e d heart alert .it rest in J u n e ' s o w n s c e n t .

14ft

I n d a y t i m e ' s h u m d r u m t o w n f r o m small c h i l d after c h i l d w e b o u g h t c l u s t e r o n c l u s t e r o f t h e star f l o w e r ' s w i l d w h i t e w i d o w e d h e a d s , r e - w i r e d o n s t r o n g w e e d stalks t h e y ' d trimmed t o l o n g g r e e n e l e g a n c e ; b u t still t h e w h o l e m o n t h b r i m m e d at night a l o n g the b e a c h w i t h a s t r o n g voice like peace; a n d e a c h m o r n i n g t h e m i n d s t a y e d crisp i n s u c h r e l e a s e . S o m e h i n t o f c e r t a i n t y , still w o r t h l o n g i n g I c o u l d t e a c h , lies lost i n a s t r e n g t h o f j a s m i n e d o w n a s u m m e r b e a c h .

GAELTACHT Bartley Costello, eighty years old, sat i n his s i l v e r - g r e y t w e e d s o n a k i t c h e n c h a i r , a t his d o o r i n C a r r a r o e , t h e sea o n l y y a r d s a w a y , s m o k i n g a p i p e , w i t h a p i n t o f p o r t e r b e s i d e his b o o t : ' F o r t h e past t w e n t y y e a r s I ' v e e a t e n n o t h i n g o n l y p e r i w i n k l e s , m y o w n h a n d s g o t t h e m ofF t h o s e r o c k s . Y o u ' r e a q u a r t e r m y a g e , i f y o u ' d stick t o w i n k l e s y o u ' d live as l o n g as m e , a n d k e e p as spry.' In the Liverpool Bar, at the N o r t h Wall, o n his w a y t o j o i n his c h i l d r e n o v e r t h e r e , a n o l d m a n l o o k e d a t m e , t h e n d o w n a t his p i n t o f r i c h D u b l i n s t o u t . H e p o i n t e d a t t h e b l a c k glass: 'Is l i an G h a e i l g e n an t - u i s c e sa n g l o i n e s i n . ' B e a r t l a C o n f h a o l a , p r i m e o f his m a n h o o d , driving b e t w e e n the r e d w e e d and the rock-fields, d r i v i n g t h r o u g h t h e s u n n y treeless quartz glory o f C a r n a , a n s w e r e d t h e f o r e i g n e r s ' glib p i t y , p o i n t i n g a t t h e small b l a c k c o w s : ' Y o u w o n ' t g e t f i n e r a n y w h e r e than those black porry cattle.' In a p u b near t h e r e , o n e o f t h e locals finally s p o k e t o t h e t o w n i e : ' L a b h r a i m l e strinsir. C r e i d i m g u r chcSir b h e i t h .i! , labhairt le s t r a i n s i r . ' P r o u d as a m a n w h o ' d c l a i m : 'I m a d e an o r c h a r d ol a r o c k field,
bougainvillc.i i lainlu'i niytuil neks.'
1

ii'

A D u b l i n tourist on a r e d - q u a r t e r strand h u n t i n g firewood found the ruins of a boat, started b r e a k i n g t h e struts o u t - an old m a n c a m e , h e s h o o k his h e a d , a n d said: 'A, a m h a c : n bi ag briseadh bid.' T h e l o w walls o f r o c k - f i e l d s i n t h e w e s t are a b e a u t i f u l c l e a n w h i t e g r e y . T h e r e a r e c h i n k s b e t w e e n t h e n e a t s t o n e s t o let t h e w i n d t h r o u g h safe, y o u c a n see t h e b l u e s u n t h r o u g h t h e m . B u t c o m i n g eastward in the same county, t h e walls g r o w h i g h e r , d a r k g r e y : an ugly grey. A n d the chinks disappear: t h r o u g h t h o s e walls y o u c a n s e e n o t h i n g . T h e n a t last y o u c o m e t o t h e city, beautiful w i t h salmon basking b e c a l m e d black b e l o w a bridge over the pale-green C o r r i b ; and ugly w i t h m a n y s h o p k e e p e r s l o o k i n g d o w n o n m e n like Bartley Costello and Beartla Confhaola because they s p e a k i n Irish, e a t p e r i w i n k l e s , k e e p small b l a c k p o n y c a t t l e , a n d o n u s b e c a u s e w e are s t r a n g e r s .

T h e G a e l i c m e a n s , in verse 2: T h e G a e l i c is less t h a n t h e w a t e r in that glass; in verse 3: I speak w i t h strangers. I b e l i e v e it's right to be s p e a k i n g w i t h strangers (strangers, h e r e , has t h e sense o f o u t l a n d e r s , foreigners, r u n n e r s - i n ) ; i n verse 4 : A h , son: d o n ' t b e b r e a k i n g a b o a t .

SOMETIMES FEEL Like an old, w r e c k e d sponge-diver leaking, like a s u i t - o f - a r m o u r leaking, l i k e a t r e e - s t u m p leafing after t h e s h a m e f u l w h i t e has d a r k e n e d o v e r , like a n u n w a s h e d p o t a t o b r u t a l l y c u t , t h e sickly o f f - w h i t e s p a t t e r e d w i t h d a r k p a t c h e s of d e c a y .

I4H

R I C H A R D

M U R P H Y

B o r n Milford H o u s e , C o u n t y Galway, 1927. First eight years spent in Ceylon, w h e r e father (later g o v e r n o r of the Bahamas) was last British mayor of C o l o m b o . Educated at C o u n t y Galway h o m e , at Wellington College, Magdalen College, Oxford, and the S o r b o n n e . English teacher in C r e t e , 1953-4. Spent 1960s in Cleggan, C o u n t y Galway, w h e r e he restored a house and t w o Galway hookers (gaff-rigged w o r k boats). Visiting Professor of Poetry, Princeton University, 1 9 7 4 - 5 . Lives Killiney, C o u n t y D u b l i n , and regularly visits Sri Lanka. ' T h e y were truly Irish,' w r o t e Richard M u r p h y of the boys w h o lived outside the crumbling d e m e s n e wall of Milford H o u s e , 'and that is w h a t my b r o t h e r and I w a n t e d to b e . T h e y seemed sharper, freer, m o r e c u n n i n g than we w e r e . ' M u r p h y is perhaps the last Anglo-Irish poet, fascinated by native m o d e s of existence w h i c h appear m o r e instinctive than his o w n . 'Seals at H i g h Island' evokes the r o m a n c e and violence of life b e y o n d the pale of gentility; in ' M o r n i n g Call', celebration of the wayward vitality of a pair of itinerant girls is tinged with an unmistakably patrician b e n e v o l e n c e . M u c h as he may admire it, the speaker in these p o e m s is excluded from the w o r l d of unselfconscious intensity the seals and tinker girls share. M u r p h y ' s concern with building, boat restoration and sailing - and indeed with p o e m construction - might be said to e m b o d y a diminished, solitary version of the colonist's 'civilising' imperative. T h e sea w h i c h confounds all .it tempts at mastery may be identified, in o n e of its aspects at least, with the Gaelic Irish to w h o m the p o e t feels b o u n d by ties b o t h of affection and blood (as evinced by his surname and his insistence on his descent from Patrick Sarsfield). Each of the first forty-nine sonnets in The Price of Stone (1985) articulates a fragment of personal, familial or national history through the 'character' of a building or m a n - m a d e structure. In the fiftieth, 'Natural Son', the poet's o w n voice breaks through in response to the birth of his son as the living present emerges from the debris of the past. Like the historical tableau The Battle of Aughrim (1968), The Price of Stone demands to be read entire.

11)

SAILING TO AN ISLAND T h e b o o m a b o v e m y k n e e s lifts, a n d t h e b o a t D r o p s , and the surge departs, departs, my c h e e k K i s s e d a n d r e j e c t e d , kissed, a s t h e gaff s w a y s A t a n g e n t , cuts t h e infinite sky to r e d M a p s , a n d t h e m a s t d r a w s e i g h t a n d e i g h t across Measureless b l u e , t h e b o a t m e n sing or sleep. W e p o i n t all d a y for o u r c h o s e n island, C l a r e , w i t h its crags p u r p l e d b y l e g e n d : T h e r e u n d e r castles t h e h o t O ' M a l l e y s , Daughters of Granuaile, the pirate q u e e n W h o boarded a T u r k with a blunderbuss, C o m b red hair and assemble cattle. Across the shelved Atlantic groundswell P l u m b e d by the sun's kingfisher rod, W e sail t o l o c a t e i n sea, e a r t h a n d s t o n e T h e m y t h of a shrewd and brutal s w o r d s w o m a n W h o piously e n d o w e d a n abbey. S e v e n h o u r s w e t r y against w i n d a n d t i d e , Tack and return, making no headway. T h e n o r t h w i n d sticks l i k e a g a g i n o u r t e e t h . Encased in a mirage, steam on the water, Loosely w e coast w h e r e h i d e o u s rocks j a g , An acropolis of c o r m o r a n t s , an extinct V o l c a n o w h e r e spiders spin, a p u r g a t o r y G u a r d e d b y hags a n d bristled w i t h breakers. T h e b r e e z e a s w e p l u n g e s l o w l y stiffens: T h e r e are hills o f sea b e t w e e n u s a n d l a n d , B e t w e e n o u r h o p e s a n d t h e island h a r b o u r . A child vomits. T h e boat veers and bucks. T h e r e i s n o r e f u g e o n t h e g a n n e t ' s cliff. W e are far, far o u t : t h e h u l l i s r o t t e n , T h e spars are s p l i t t i n g , t h e r i g g i n g i s frayed, A n d o u r h e l m s m a n laughs uncautiously. W h a t o f those w h o must earn their living O n t h e ribald face o f a m a d mistress? W e i n h o l i d a y fashion k n o w
IM)

T h i s i s t h e b o a t t h a t b e l c h e d its c r e w D e a d o n t h e s h i n g l e i n t h e C l e g g a n disaster. N o w s h e d i p s , a n d t h e sail hits t h e w a t e r . S h e luffs to a s q u a l l ; is s t r u c k ; a n d s h u d d e r s . S o m e o n e i s s h o u t i n g . T h e b o o m , w e a k a s scissors, Has snapped. T h e b o a t m a n is praying. O r d e r s t h u n d e r a n d canvas c a n n o n a d e s . S h e s m o t h e r s i n s p r a y . W e still h a v e a m a s t ; T h e oar m a k e s a b o o m . I am told to cut C o r d s o u t o f f i s h i n g - l i n e s , fasten t h e j i b . R o p e s lash m y c h e e k s . Ease! Ease a t last: S h e s w i n g s t o l e e w a r d , w e c a n safely r u n . W a s h e d o v e r rails o u r C l a r e Island d r e a m s , W i t h storm b e h i n d u s w e straddle t h e wakeful W a t e r s t h a t d r a w u s headfast t o I n i s h b o f i n . T h e b o w s rock as she overtakes the surge. W e n e i t h e r s l e e p n o r s i n g n o r talk, B u t l o o k t o t h e land w h e r e the m e n are m o w i n g . W h a t w i l l t h e i s l a n d e r s t h i n k o f o u r folly? T h e whispering spontaneous reception committee N o d s and smokes by the calm jetty. Am I jealous of these courteous fishermen W h o h a n d u s a s h o r e , for k n o w i n g t h e sea I n t i m a t e l y , for r e s p e c t i n g t h e s t o r m That took nine of their m e n on one bad night A n d five f r o m Rossadillisk i n this v e r y b o a t ? T h e i r h a r b o u r i s s h e l t e r e d . T h e y a r e s l o w t o tell T h e story again. T h e r e is local p r i d e I n t h e i r h o m e - b u i l t ships. W e are a d v i s e d t o r e t u r n n e x t d a y b y t h e m a i l . B u t t o n i g h t w e stay, d r i n k i n g w i t h p e o p l e H a p p y in the m o n o t o n y of boats, Bringing the catch to the Cleggan m a r k e t , C u l t i v a t i n g fields, o r r e t i r i n g f r o m A m e r i c a W i t h e n o u g h t o soak till m o r n i n g o r o l d a g e .

.1

T h e b e n c h b e l o w m y k n e e s lifts, a n d t h e f l o o r D r o p s , a n d t h e w o r d s d e p a r t , d e p a r t , w i t h faces B l u r r e d b y t h e s m o k e . A n o l d m a n grips m y a r m , H i s s h o t e y e s t w i t c h , q u i e t l y dissatisfied. H e has lost his w a t c h , a n A m e r i c a n g o l d F r o m B o s t o n g a s - w o r k s . H e treats t h e c o m p a n y T o t h e s e c r e t i v e s u r g e , t h e sea o f his sadness. I slip o u t s i d e , fall a m o n g s t o n e s a n d n e t t l e s , Crackling dry twigs on an elder tree, W h i l e a n a c c o r d i o n d r o n e s a b o v e t h e hill. L a t e r , I r e a c h a r o o m , w h e r e t h e m o o n stares C o b w e b b e d t h r o u g h t h e w i n d o w . T h e t i d e has e b b e d , B o a t s are c a r e e n e d i n t h e h a r b o u r . H e r e i s a b e d .

T H E POET ON THE ISLAND to Tiicodore Roethkc O n a w e t n i g h t , l a d e n w i t h b o o k s for l u g g a g e , A n d s t u m b l i n g u n d e r t h e b u r d e n o f himself, H e r e a c h e d t h e p i e r , l o o k i n g for a r e f u g e . D a r k l y h e c r o s s e d t o t h e island six m i l e s off: T h e e n g i n e p u l s e d , t h e sails i n v e n t e d r h y t h m , W h i l e t h e sea e x p a n d e d a n d t h e rain d r u m m e d softly. Safety o n w a t e r , h e r o c k e d w i t h a n e w t h e m e : A n d i n t h e w a r m t h o f his m i n d ' s g r e e n h o u s e b l o o m e d A p o e m n u r t u r e d like a c h r y s a n t h e m u m . H i s forehead, a Prussian h e l m e t , m o o d y , d o m e d , R e l a x e d i n t h e s u n : a lyric w a s his l a n c e . To be loved by the p e o p l e , h e , a stranger, h u m m e d In the herring-store on Sunday crammed with drunks Ballads o f b a w d r y w i t h a s p e a k e a s y stress. Y e t l o n e l y t h e y left h i m , ' o n e o f t h e Y a n k s ' .

I S

'

T h e children understood. This was not madness. H o w m a n y orphans had he fathered in w o r d s R o b u s t and c u n n i n g , b u t n e v e r heartless. H e w a t c h e d the h a r b o u r scouted b y sea-birds: H i s fate w a s l i k e fish u n d e r p o e t r y ' s b e a k s : W o r d s b e g a n w e i r d l y t o t a k e off i n w a r d s . T i m e t h a t t h e y c a l e n d a r i n seasons n o t i n c l o c k s , In gardens d u g over and houses roofed, W a s to h i m a see-saw of joys and shocks, W h e r e his b o d y w i t h e r e d b u t his style i m p r o v e d . A s t o r m s h o t u p , his glass c r a c k e d in a g a l e : A n abstract t h u n d e r o f d a r k n e s s d e a f e n e d T h e listeners h e ' d o n c e g i v e n roses, n o w hail. H e ' d b u r s t t h e lyric b a r r i e r : l o g i c e n d e d . D o c t o r s w e r e c a l l e d , a n d h e a g r e e d t o sail.

from T H E BATTLE OF AUGHR1M

CASEMENT'S

FUNERAL

After t h e n o o s e , a n d t h e black diary d e e d s G o s s i p e d , his f a m e r o o t s i n p r i s o n l i m e : T h e h a n g e d b o n e s b u r n , a r e v o l u t i o n seeds. N o w Casement's skeleton is flying h o m e . A g u n salutes, t h e t r o o p s s l o w - m a r c h , o u r n e w N a t i o n a t o n e s for h e r s h a w l e d m o t h e r l a n d W h o s e w e l c o m e gaoled h i m w h e n a U-boat t h r e w T h i s rebel quixote soaked on Banna Strand. Soldiers in g r e e n guard the d r a p e d catafalque W i t h chalk remains o f o n c e a m b i g u o u s b o n e W h i c h f a t h e r e d n o t h i n g till t h e t r a i t o r ' s d o c k I lurt h i m t o t o w e r i n l e g e n d like W o l f e T o n e .

15 I

F r o m gaol yard t o t h e Liberator's t o m b P i l l a r e d i n frost, t h e y c a r r y t h e freed ash, T r a n s m u t e d relic o f a d e a t h - c e l l f l a m e W h i c h p u r g e d for m a r t y r d o m t h e diarist's f l e s h . O n t h e small s c r e e n I w a t c h t h e p a c k e d c o r t e g e P a c e f r o m H i g h M a s s . R e b e l s i n silk hats n o w Exploit the grave w i t h an old comrade's speech: W h i t e hair tossed, a black cape flecked w i t h s n o w .

SEALS AT HIGH ISLAND T h e c a l a m i t y o f seals b e g i n s w i t h j a w s . B o r n in caverns that reverberate W i t h e n d l e s s m a l i c e o f t h e sea's t o n g u e C l a c k i n g on shingle, t h e y learn to bark back I n fear a n d sadness a n d c e l e b r a t i o n . T h e o c e a n ' s m o u t h o p e n s f o r t y feet w i d e A n d closes o n a m o r s e l o f t h e i r r o c k . S w a y e d b y t h e t h r u s t a n d backfall o f t h e t i d e , A dappled grey bull and a brindled c o w Copulate in the green water of a cove. I w a t c h from a cliff-top, trying n o t to m o v e . S o m e t i m e s t h e y sink a n d m e r g e i n t o black shoals; T h e n r i s e for air, his m u z z l e o n h e r n e c k , T h e i r w i n g e d feet i n t e r t w i n e d as a fishtail. S h e o p e n s h e r fierce m o u t h like a scarlet f l o w e r Full of w h i t e seeds; she holds it o p e n l o n g At the sunburst in the music of their loving; A n d cries a little. B u t I m u s t r e m e m b e r H o w far t h e i r feelings are f r o m m i n e m a r o o n e d . I f t h e r e are tears a t this h o l y c e r e m o n y T h e i r s are c a u s e d b y b r i n e a n d m i n e b y b r e e z e . W h e n t h e g r e a t b u l l w i t h d r a w s his r o d , i t g l o w s L i k e a c a r n e l i a n c a n d l e set in jade. T h e c o w r i p p l e s a s h o r e t o Iced h e r < all;

W h i l e an old rival, eyeing the deed w i t h hate, Swims to attack the tired t r i u m p h a n t god. T h e y r e a r t h e i r h e a d s a b o v e t h e b o i l i n g surf, T h e i r terrible j a w s o p e n , j e t t i n g b l o o d . A t nightfall t h e y h a u l o u t , a n d m o u r n t h e d r o w n e d , P l a y i n g t o t h e sea sadly t h e i r last q u a r t e t , A n i m p r o v i s e d r e q u i e m t h a t ravishes R e a s o n , w h i l e r i p p i n g scale u p l i k e a n e t : Brings pity trembling d o w n the rocky spine O f h e a d l a n d s , till t h e b i t t e r o c e a n ' s t o n g u e Swells in their c o v e , a n d s m o t h e r s their s w e e t song.

STORMPETREL G i p s y o f t h e sea In winter w a m b l i n g over scurvy whaleroads, J o o k i n g i n t h e w a k e o f ships, A sailor h o o k s y o u A n d c a r v e s his girl's n a m e o n y o u r b e a k . Guest of the storm W h o s w e e p s y o u off t o p a r t y after p a r t y , Y o u flit in a sooty grey coat Smelling of must B a r e f o o t across a sea of b r o k e n glass. W a i f of the afterglow O n s u m m e r nights t o m e e t y o u r mate y o u jink O v e r sea-cliff a n d g r a v e y a r d , Creeping underground T o h a t c h a n e g g i n a h e r m i t ' s skull. Pulse o f t h e r o c k Y o u t h r o b till d a y b r e a k o n y o u r c r y p t i c n e s t A s o n g o l d e r t h a n fossils. E p h e m e r a l as thrift. It e n d s w i t h a gasp.

[33

M O R N I N G CALL Up from the trawlers in the fishdock they w a l k to my house O n h i g h - s o l e d clogs, s t e p p i n g l i k e fillies b a c k f r o m a f o r g e N e w l y s h o d , to w a k e me at sunrise from a single b e d W i t h laughter peeling skin from a d r e a m ripening on t h e mossy B r a n c h e s o f m y h e a d - ' L e t u s in! L e t u s in! - a n d h a l f - n a k e d I s t u m b l e o v e r a f l o o r o f h e a p e d p a p e r t o o p e n m y d o o r o f glass T o a f l o o d t h a t crosses t h e t h r e s h o l d , little b l u e w a v e s N u d g i n g each other, d o d g i n g rocks t h e y ' v e got t o leap over, F r e s h e n i n g m y b r a c k i s h p o o l s , t o tell m e o f ' O s u c h a n i g h t B e l o w i n t h e b o a t s ! ' ' W e c a n ' t g o h o m e ! W h a t will t h e y say?' C a n I t h i n k o f a lie t o p r o t e c t t h e m f r o m G o d o n l y k n o w s W h a t t r o u b l e this w i l l c a u s e , w h a t r o w s ? ' W e ' l l r u n a w a y A n d n e v e r c o m e b a c k ! ' - till t h e y flop i n t o b l a c k a r m c h a i r s , T w o b e a u t i f u l t e e n a g e girls f r o m a t r i b e o f t i n k e r s , L o v e l y a s seals w e t f r o m fishing, h a u l e d o u t o n a r o c k T o d r y t h e i r d a r k b r o w n fur g l i n t i n g w i t h scales o f s a l m o n W h e n the spring tide ebbs. T h i s is their everlasting day O f b e i n g y o u n g . T h e y b r i n g t o m y r o o m t h e sea's i o d i n e o d o u r O n a b r e e z e o f v o i c e s ruffling m y c a l m a s t h e y c o m b t h e i r l o n g H a i r t a n g l e d a s w e e d i n a r o c k p o o l b e g i n n i n g t o settle clear. Give me the sea-breath from your m o u t h s to breathe a while!

from T H E PRICE OF S T O N E
ROOF-TREE

A f t e r y o u b r o u g h t h e r h o m e w i t h y o u r first c h i l d H o w did y o u celebrate? N o t w i t h a p o e m She might have loved, but orders to rebuild T h e house. M e n tore m e open, r o o m b y r o o m . Y o u r d a u g h t e r ' s cries w e r e a n s w e r e d b y l o u d c r a c k s O f h a m m e r s s t r i p p i n g slates; t h e c l a w i n g d o w n O f d o z e d ralters; d u l l , s t u p e f y i n g k n o c k s O n walls. P r o u d l y y o u r h a c k w o r k m a d e m e g r o a n .

I Si,

Y o u r g r e e d for k i l n - d r i e d o a k t h a t c o u l d o u t l a s t Seven generations b r o k e her heart. My m i n d Y o u filled w i t h r o t - p r o o f h e m l o c k a t a c o s t T h a t killed h e r l o v e . T h e dust spread u n r e f i n e d . T o renovate m y structure, w h i c h survives, Y o u f l a w e d t h e t e n d e r e s t m o v e m e n t o f t h r e e lives.
CONVENIENCE

T h e public servant o f m e n ' s private parts, Plain c l o t h e d in the u n d e r g r o u n d b e l o w Eros, W i t h w h i t e g l a z e d stalls, a n d s e e - t h r o u g h m i r r o r arts, I p l u m b our language empire's omphalos. Y o u r profane oracle, I speak t h r o u g h a crack I n a m e n t a l b l o c k , g o i n g far b a c k t o t h e y e a r Y o u stood here, epicentred on the shock O f gross a c c u s a t i o n , q u a k i n g a t w o r d s l i k e q u e e r . I w a t c h e d y o u face a n a b s u r d firing s q u a d U n b u t t o n i n g u n i f o r m s . I , t o o , h a d lost M y p r i m a l sense i n t h e p r o m i s c u o u s c r o w d . D e t e c t e d , blackmailed, j u d g e d , y o u paid t h e cost. A life s e n t e n c e , a m b i g u o u s l y i m p o s e d , P r o p s y o u b e h i n d all k i n d s o f b a r s , e x p o s e d .
KYLEMORE CASTLE

B u i l t for a c o t t o n k i n g , w h o l o v e d t h e v i e w U n s p o i l t b y mills, i m p r o v e d b y f a m i n e ' s h a n d T h a t cleared a w a y p e o p l e , petrified I g r e w Grotesquely rich on m o u n t a i n o u s , p o o r land. T o last for e v e r , I h a d t o b e faced i n s t o n e I )ressed by w a g e - s k e l e t o n s ; a s p i n d l y p i l e O f s t o r m - g r e y turrets that defended n o o n e , A m i broke- m y m a k e r , w i t h his f a b r i c a t e d style. ( i o m i n g from c h u r c h t o h o l d h e r usual p l a c e
( )n ( h u s t i n g s nights, w h e e l e d to the dining l o o m ,

157

H i s w i f e ' s c o r p s e e m b a l m e d in a s e a l e d glass case O b e y e d his c o m m a n d i n t h e b r a n d y - l i t g l o o m . N o w , m y l i n e n f o l d p a n e l l e d halls r e t a i n I n m o r t m a i n his d a r k airs, w h i c h n u n s m a i n t a i n .

NATURAL

SON

Before the spectacled professor snipped T h e cord, I heard y o u r birth-cry flood the ward, A n d lowered your mother's tortured head, and wept. T h e h o u s e y o u ' d left w o u l d n e e d t o b e r e s t o r e d . N o worse pain could b e b o r n e , t o bear the j o y Of seeing y o u c o m e in a slow dive from the w o m b , P u s h e d f r o m y o u r fluid h o m e , p r o n o u n c e d ' a b o y ' . Y o u ' l l n e v e r find s o w e l l e q u i p p e d a r o o m . N o h o u s e w e b u i l d c o u l d h o p e t o satisfy E v e r y small n e e d , n o w t h a t y o u ' v e m a d e this m o v e T o share o u r loneliness, m u c h a s w e try O u r v o c a l skill t o w a l l y o u r o u n d w i t h l o v e . T h i s day y o u crave so little, we so m u c h F o r y o u t o live, w h o n e e d o u r merest t o u c h .

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T H O M A S

K I N S E L L A

Horn Dublin, 1928. E d u c a t e d at University College D u b l i n . W o r k e d as ( ivil servant from 1948 until retiring from senior position in D e p a r t m e n t of Finance, 1965. T a u g h t at University of S o u t h e r n Illinois, 1 9 6 5 - 7 0 , and at T e m p l e University, Philadelphia, for m o r e than t w e n t y years from 1970. N o w lives in C o u n t y W i c k l o w . A process of sombre retrieval from the past can be seen at w o r k alike in Kinsella's poetry and in his extensive translation from the Irish - Tlie Tin (1969), An Duanaire, I 600-1900: Poems of the Dispossessed (1981) and The New Oxford Book of Irish Verse (1986). The Dual Tradition: An Essay on Poetry and Politics in Ireland appeared in 1995. K msella's early verse paid h o m a g e b o t h to t h e agility of A u d e n and the grandiloquence of Yeats, qualities he c a m e to distrust in his later practice. All b u t the o p e n i n g piece in the selection derive from the series of longer p o e m s or sequences to w h i c h the second half of his career has b e e n d e v o t e d . In these i n t e r c o n n e c t i n g w o r k s of e c h o i n g phrases and motifs, fragments of reminiscence from the poet's individual .I niggle towards awareness are a p p r e h e n d e d against a b a c k g r o u n d of the impersonal processes of history and prehistory. Voracity is a key t r o p e of this writing, w h e t h e r in relation to t h e d e v o u r i n g of w e a k e r biological or political organisms by stronger, or to the poetic imagination's forced c o n s u m p t i o n of the mess of the actual. T h e will h >w.uds survival in the organic sphere provides a figure for the aesthetic urge towards structure, and the recapitulations, blind alleys and idaptations of evolutionary d e v e l o p m e n t are replicated in the gradually Unfolding p o e m series itself. It is impossible to reflect the scope and m o v e m e n t of such a poetry in an anthology. I have preferred some of I I K most nearly freestanding o r lyrical individual p o e m s o r passages, b u t ill nine extracts yield their full significance only in the light of the m o r e abstract, metaphysical material w h i c h surrounds t h e m . One Fond Embrace, represented h e r e by its i n t r o d u c t o r y section, plays a
1111111>.t11stic

variation on the voracity m e t a p h o r t o indict the materialism ruling class. T h i s late p o e m reintroduces a satirical, social the Nigh/walker sequence of 1967.

ol I

>IIMIII'S

dimension m o r e or less absent from Kinsella's w o r k since

CHRYSALIDES O u r last free s u m m e r w e m o o n e d a b o u t a t o d d h o u r s P e d a l l i n g s l o w l y t h r o u g h c o u n t r y t o w n s , s t o p p i n g t o eat C h o c o l a t e a n d fruit, t r a c i n g o u r v a g a r i e s o n t h e m a p . At night we watched in the barn, to the lurch of m e l o d e o n music, T h e c r u n c h i n g boots of c o u n t r y m e n - huge and weightless As their shadows - twirling and leaping over the yellow concrete. S l e e p i n g t o o little o r t o o m u c h , w e a w o k e a t n o o n A n d were received with w o m a n l y mockery into the kitchen, L i k e calves p o k i n g o u r faces i n w i t h e n o r m o u s h u n g e r . Daily w e strapped o u r saddlebags and w e n t t o e x p e r i e n c e A t o l e r a n c e w e shall n e v e r k n o w a g a i n , c o n f u s i n g F o r t h e last t i m e , for e x a m p l e , t h e licit a n d t h e familiar. O u r instincts blurred w i t h c h a n g e ; a strange wakefulness Sapped o u r energies and dulled o u r slow-beating hearts T o t h e e x t r e m e s o f f e e l i n g - i n s e n s i t i v e alike T o the u n i q u e succession o f o u r youthful midnights, W h e n b y a w i n d o w a b l a z e softly w i t h t h e v i r g i n m o o n D r y scones and jugs of milk awaited us in the dark, O r t o l a s t i n g h o r r o r : a w e d d i n g flight o f a n t s S p a w n i n g t o its d e a t h , a m u t e p e r s p i r a t i o n Glistening like drops of c o p p e r in o u r path.

from N O T E S FROM T H E LAND OF T H E DEAD

HEN

WOMAN

T h e n o o n heat in the yard s m e l l e d o f stillness a n d c o m i n g t h u n d e r . A h e n scratched and picked at the shore.

I t s t o p p e d , its b o d y c r o u c h e d a n d p u f f e d o u t . T h e b r o o d i n g s i l e n c e s e e m e d t o say ' H u s h . . . ' T h e cottage d o o r opened, a black hole in a w h i t e w a s h e d w a l l so b r i g h t t h e eyes n a r r o w e d . Inside, a clock m u r m u r e d ' G o n g . . .' ( f p i a d felt all this b e f o r e . . .) She h u r r i e d o u t in h e r slippers m u t t e r i n g , h e r face d a r k w i t h a n g e r , and gathered the hen up jerking languidly. H e r hand fumbled. T o o late. T o o late. I t fixed m e w i t h its p e b b l e e y e s (seeing w h a t m a d blur?). A w h i t e egg s h o w e d in the sphincter; m o u t h and beak opened together; a n d t i m e s t o o d still. N o t h i n g m o v e d : bird o r w o m a n , fumbled or fumbling - locked there (as^I /must h a v e b e e n ) g a p i n g .

T h e r e was a tiny m o v e m e n t at my feet, tiny and mechanical; I looked d o w n . A beetle like a b r o n z e leaf was i n c h i n g across t h e c e m e n t , c l a s p i n g w i t h small tarsi a ball o f d u n g b i g g e r t h a n its b o d y . I he serrated b r o w pressed the g r o u n d h u m b l y , lifted in a s h o r t s t a r e , b o w e d a g a i n ; the dung-ball advanced minutely, l o s i n g a few f r a g m e n t s , s p e c k s o f staleness a n d freshness.

W.I

A m u t t e r o f t h u n d e r far off - time not quite stopped. I saw t h e egg had m o v e d a fraction: a tender blank brain Zander t o r s i o n , a c l e a n n e w w o r l d . As I w a t c h e d , the mystery c o m p l e t e d . T h e b l a c k z e r o o f t h e orifice c l o s e d to a p o i n t a n d t h e w h i t e z e r o o f t h e e g g h u n g free, f l e c k e d w i t h g r e e n i s h b r o w n oils. I t s l o w l y t u r n e d a n d fell. D r e a m l i k e , fussed b y h e r s p l a y e d f i n g e r s , it floated outward, m o o n - w h i t e , l e a v i n g n o t r a c e i n t h e air, a n d b e g a n its d r o p t o t h e s h o r e .

I f e e d u p o n it still, as y o u s e e ; there is no e n d to that w h i c h , not understood, may yet be noted and hoarded in the imagination, i n t h e y o l k o f one_'s b e i n g , s o t o s p e a k , t h e r e t o u n d e r g o its ( q u i t e a n i m a l ) g r o w t h , j dividing blindly, t w i t c h i n g , p a c k e d w i t h will, s e a r c h i n g i n its o w n tissue for t h e s t r u c t u r e in which it may wake. S o m e t h i n g that had - clenched in its c a v e - n o t b e e n n o w was: a n egg o f b e i n g . T h r o u g h w h a t s e e m e d a w h o l e y e a r i t fell - as it still falls, for m e , solid a n d l i g h t , t h e r e d g o l d b e a t i n g i n its silvery w o m b , alive a s t h e y o l k a n d w h i t e of my. e y e ; as it will c o n t i n u e to fall, p r o b a b l y , until I d i e .
If..'

t h r o u g h t h e vast i n d i f f e r e n t spaces with which I am empty.

I t s m a s h e d against t h e g r a t i n g a n d slipped d o w n q u i c k l y o u t o f sight. It w a s o v e r in a c o m i c a l flash. T h e soft m u c o u s shell c l u n g a little l o n g e r , then drained d o w n . She stood staring, in blank anger. T h e n h e r e y e s c a m e t o life, a n d s h e l a u g h e d a n d let t h e b i r d flap a w a y . ' I t ' s all t h e o n e . T h e r e ' s plenty m o r e w h e r e that c a m e from!' H e n to pan! It w a s a s i m p l e w o r l d .

ANCESTOR

I w a s g o i n g u p t o say s o m e t h i n g , a n d s t o p p e d . H e r p r o f i l e against t h e c u r t a i n s was old, a n d dark like a h u n t i n g bird's. It was t h e w a y she p e r c h e d on the high stool, s t a r i n g i n t o herself, w i t h o n e fist g r i p p i n g t h e side o f t h e b a r r i e r a r o u n d h e r d e s k - or her head held by s o m e t h i n g , from inside. A n d n o t c a r i n g for a n y t h i n g a r o u n d h e r or a n y o n e t h e r e by the shelves. I c a u g h t a faint s m e l l , m u s k y a n d q u e e r . I m a y have m a d e s o m e s o u n d - she s t o p p e d r o c k i n g a n d p r e s s e d h e r fist i n h e r l a p ; t h e n s h e s t o o d u p a n d s h u t d o w n t h e lid o f t h e d e s k , a n d t u r n e d t h e k e y . S h e s h o v e d a small b o t t l e u n d e r h e r a p r o n s and came toward m e , darkening the passageway. Ancestor . . . a m o n g s w e e t - and fruit-boxes. I lei I'l .u k heart . . . W a s dial a sigh?

\(,\

- brushing by me in the shadows, with her heaped aprons, through the red hangings t o the scullery, and d o w n t o t h e b a c k r o o m .

TEAR

I w a s s e n t in to see h e r . A fringe o f j e t d r o p s chattered at my ear as I w e n t in t h r o u g h t h e hangings. I was s w a l l o w e d in c h a m b e r y dusk. My heart shrank at the smell of disused organs and sour kidney. T h e black aprons I used to b u r y m y face i n w e r e folded at the foot of the b e d i n t h e last w a t e r y l i g h t f r o m t h e w i n d o w ( G o i n a n d say g o o d b y e t o h e r ) a n d I w a s c a r r i e d off to unfathomable depths. I t u r n e d to l o o k at her. She stared at t h e ceiling and puffed h e r c h e e k , distracted, propped high in the bed r e s t i n g for t h e n e x t a t t a c k . T h e covers w e r e g a t h e r e d close up to her mouth, t h a t t h e l i n e s o f i l l - t e m p e r still m a r k e d . H e r grey hair was l o o s e n e d o u t like a y o u n g w o m a n ' s all o v e r the pillow, mixed with the shadows criss-crossing h e r forehead

IM

and at h e r m o u t h and eyes, like a w e b of strands tying d o w n h e r h e a d and tangling d o w n toward the shadow e a t i n g a w a y t h e f l o o r a t m y feet. I c o u l d n ' t stir a t first, n o r w i s h e d t o , for fear s h e m i g h t t u r n a n d t e m p t m e (my o w n father's m o t h e r ) with open m o u t h - w i t h s o m e fierce w h e e d l i n g w h i s p e r t o h i d e m y s e l f o n e last t i m e against h e r , a n d b u r y m y self i n h e r d r y i n g m u d . W a s I t o kiss h e r ? A s s o o n kiss t h e d a m p t h a t c r e p t i n t h e f l o w e r e d walls o f this p i t . Y e t I h a d t o kiss. I knelt by the bulk of the death bed a n d s a n k m y face i n t h e chill and smell of h e r black aprons. S n u f f a n d m u s k , t h e folds against m y e y e l i d s , carried me i n t o a derelict place s m e l l i n g o f ash: u n s e e n walls a n d r o o f s r u s t l e d like b r e a t h i n g . I found myself disturbing d e a d ashes for a n y t r a c e o f w a r m t h , w h e n far off in t h e v a u l t s a single d r o p splashed. A n d I f o u n d w h a t I w a s l o o k i n g for n o t h e a t n o r fire, not a n y c o m f o r t ,

b u t h e r v o i c e , soft, t a l k i n g t o s o m e o n e a b o u t m y father: ' G o d h e l p h i m , h e c r i e d b i g tears o v e r t h e r e b y t h e m a c h i n e for t h e p o o r little t h i n g . ' B r i g h t d r o p s o n t h e w o o d e n lid for m y i n f a n t sister. M y o w n wail of child-animal grief was s o o n d o n e , w i t h a n y early guess a t sad d u l l n e s s a n d t e d i o u s p a i n a n d lives b i t t e r w i t h h a r d b o n d a g e . H o w I tasted it n o w her heart beating in my m o u t h ! She d r e w an uncertain breath and pushed at the clothes and s h u d d e r e d tiredly. I b r o k e free a n d left t h e r o o m promising myself w h e n s h e w a s really d e a d I w o u l d really kiss. M y grandfather half l o o k e d u p f r o m t h e fireplace as I c a m e o u t , and shrugged and turned back w i t h a d e a f stare t o t h e h e a t . I f i d g e t e d b e s i d e h i m for a m i n u t e and w e n t out to the shop. I t w a s still b r i g h t t h e r e a n d I felt b e t t e r a b l e t o b r e a t h e . O l d age can digest anything: the c o m m o t i o n at H e a v e n ' s g a t e - t h e s t r u g g l e in s t o r e for y o u all y o u r life.

H o w long and hard it is before you get to H e a v e n , unless like little A g n e s y o u v a n i s h w i t h early tears.

from O N E
38 PHOENIX STREET

Look. I w a s lifted up past r o t t e n b r i c k s w e e d s to l o o k o v e r the wall. A m a m m y lifted u p a b a b y o n t h e o t h e r s i d e . D u s t y smells. C a t . F l o w e r bells hanging d o w n purple red. Look. T h e other. Looking. My finger picked at a bit of dirt on t o p of t h e wall and a q u i c k wiry redgolden thing ran b a c k d o w n a little h o l e .

*
W e k n e l t u p o n o u r chairs i n t h e l a m p l i g h t and leaned on the b r o w n plush, watching the g r a m o p h o n e . T h e t u r n i n g r e c o r d s h o n e a n d hissed u n d e r t h e n e e d l e , liftfalling, liftfalling. J o h n M c C o r m a c k c h a t t e r e d i n his b o x . T w o little t o n g u e s o f f l a m e b u r n e d in the lamp c h i m n e y , w a v e r i n g t h e i r tips. O n t h e glassy b e l l y little d r a w n o u t i m a g e s q u i v e r e d . J i m m y ' s m a m m y was d r y i n g t h e d e l p h i n t h e s h a d o w s .

167

M i s t e r C u m m i n s always h u n c h e d d o w n sad a n d still b e s i d e t h e s t o v e , w i t h his face t u r n e d a w a y t o w a r d t h e b a r s . H i s m o u t h s o c a l m , a n d a l w a y s set s o sadly. A b l a c k r u b b e r y scar s t u c k o n his w h i t e f o r e h e a d . S e a l e d i n his sad c a v e . H i s s h o r r o r e r e c t i n g s l o w l y o u t o f its r o c k n e s t s , n o s i n g t h e air. H e w a s b u r i e d for t h r e e days u n d e r a hill o f d e a d , t h e faces c o n g e s t e d d o w n all r o u n d h i m , g r i n n i n g Dardanelles! in t h e d a r k . T h e y noticed him by a thread of blood g l i s t e n i n g a m o n g t h e b l a c k crusts o n his f o r e h e a d . H i s h e a r t g a t h e r e d all its w e a k n e s s , t o b e a t . A w o r m h a n g i n g d o w n , its little r o u n d b l a c k m o u t h o p e n . Sad f a t h e r .

I spent the night there once i n a s t r a n g e r o o m , t u c k e d i n against t h e w a l l p a p e r o n t h e o t h e r side o f o u r o w n b e d r o o m w a l l . Up in a corner of the darkness the Sacred Heart l e a n e d d o w n i n his l o n g c l o t h e s o v e r a r e d oil l a m p w i t h his w o m e n ' s b l a c k h a i r a n d his e y e s lit u p i n r e d hurt and blaming. He held out the Heart w i t h his w o m e n ' s fingers, l i k e a t o y . T h e lamp-wick, with a tiny head o f r e d fire, w r i g g l e d i n its p o o l . T h e shadows flickered: the H e a r t beat!

HIS FATHER'S H A N D S

I d r a n k firmly a n d set t h e glass d o w n b e t w e e n u s firmly. Y o u w e r e saying.

I6H

M y father. W a s saying. H i s finger p r o d d e d a n d p r o d d e d , m a r r i n g his p o i n t . E m p h a s emphasemphasis. I have w a t c h e d his father's h a n d s b e f o r e h i m cupped, and tightening the black Plug b e t w e e n knife and t h u m b , c a r v i n g off little c u r l i c u e s t o r u b t h e m i n t h e d a r k o f his p a l m s , o r c u t t i n g i n t o n e w l e a t h e r a t his b e n c h , l e v e r i n g a g r o o v e o p e n w i t h his t h u m b , i n s i n u a t i n g w e t sprigs for t h e h a m m e r . H e k e p t t h e sprigs i n m o u t h f u l s a n d b r o u g h t t h e m o u t i n silvery u n i t s b e t w e e n his lips. I t o o k a p i n c h o u t of their hole and k n o c k e d t h e m o n e by o n e into the w o o d , bright points a m o n g h u n d r e d s g o n e black, other children's - cousins and others, g r o w n u p . O r his b o w h a n d scarcely m o v i n g , s c r a p i n g i n t h e d a r k c o r n e r n e a r t h e fire, his p l u m p fingers s h i f t i n g o n t h e strings. T o his deaf, i n c l i n e d h e a d h e h u g g e d t h e fiddle's b o d y , whispering with the tune with breaking heart w h e n ' e r I hear in p r i v a c y , across a b l o c k e d v o i d .

hi'*

the w i n d that shakes t h e barley. The wind.. . r o u n d her grave. .. o n m y breast i n b l o o d she d i e d . . . B u t b l o o d for b l o o d w i t h o u t r e m o r s e I've ta'en. . . B e y o n d that.

Y o u r family, T h o m a s , m e t w i t h a n d h e l p e d m a n y of the Croppies in hiding from the Y e o s o r o n t h e i r w a y h o m e after t h e d e f e a t in south W e x f o r d . T h e y sheltered the Laceys w h o w e r e later h a n g e d o n t h e Bridge i n Ballinglen between Tinahely and Anacorra. F r o m h e a r s a y , as far as I c a n tell the M e n Folk w e r e either Stone Cutters or masons or probably both. I n t h e 18 a n d late 1700s e v e n t h e f a r m e r s had s o m e o t h e r trade to m a k e a living. T h e y lived in Farnese a m o n g a C o l o n y o f N o r t h o f I r e l a n d o r S c o t c h settlers left t h e r e i n s o m e o f t h e dispersals o r m i g r a t i o n s w h i c h o c c u r r e d i n this A r e a o f W i c k l o w a n d W e x f o r d a n d C a r l o w . A n d s o m e years before that t i m e the Family came from s o m e w h e r e a r o u n d T u l l o w . B e y o n d that.

L i t t e r e d u p l a n d s . D e n s e grass. R o c k s e v e r y w h e r e , w e t u n d e r n e a t h , retaining m e m o r y of the l o n g cold. First, a p r o w of l a n d c h o s e n , a n d w e b b e d w i t h tra<

I /(

then boulders chosen a n d sloped t o g e t h e r , stabilized in m e n a c e . I d o n o t l i k e this p l a c e . I do n o t t h i n k the p e o p l e w h o lived h e r e w e r e e v e r h a p p y . I t feels evil. Terrible things h a p p e n e d . I feel afraid h e r e w h e n I a m o n m y o w n .

Dispersals o r m i g r a t i o n s . T h r o u g h w h a t evolutions or accidents t o w a r d that peace and patience b y t h e fireside, t h a t b l o c k e d g e n t l e n e s s . . . T h a t serene pause, w i t h t h e slashing knife, in kindly mockery, a s I b u s y m y s e l f w i t h m y little nails a t t h e r u d e b l o c k , his b e n c h . T h e blood advancing - g o r g i n g vessel after vessel and altering in t h e m one by one. B e h o l d , that gentleness already modulated twice, in others: to earnestness and iteration; to an offhandedness, repressing various impulses. E x t r a o r d i n a r y . . . T h e big block - I f o u n d it years a f t e r w a r d i n a c o r n e r o f t h e y a r d in s u n l i g h t after r a i n and stood it u p , w e t and black: i t t u r n e d u n d e r m y h a n d s , a n axis o l light Mashing d o w n its l e n g t h , a n d t h e w o o d s soft f l e s h b r o k e o p e n ,
i o i u i l l c s s little nails

s q u i r m i n g a n d d r o p p i n g o u t o l it.
i /I

from ANNIVERSARIES 1956 Fifteen m i n u t e s or t h e r e a b o u t s of Prelude and Liebestod - elephant into orgasm and I was about ready. I c r o o k e d my foot around the chair-leg a n d m y fingers a r o u n d t h e p e n , a n d set the star-dome creaking with music at absolute zero across t h e b a n k r u p t n i g h t . A c o u p l e of h u n d r e d yards a r o u n d the c o r n e r i n a m o o n - f l o o d e d office i n M e r r i o n S t r e e t m y F i n a n c e files d r e a m e d , p r o p p e d at the ledge, m y desk m o v e d infinitesimally. O v e r the entire country, o v e r m a r k e t a n d h a r b o u r , i n silvery l i g h t , emanations of government materialised and e m b r a c e d d o w n w a r d and began metaphysically to bite. A small h e r d of friends s t a r e d b a c k f r o m t h e M a i l b o a t rail. A mongrel dog lapped in a deserted t o w n square.

A book came fluttering out of the dark and flapped at the w i n d o w .

from T H E MESSENGER It is an August e v e n i n g , in W i c k l o w . I t i s g e t t i n g late. T h e y h a v e tussled i n l o v e . T h e y are h i d d e n , n e a r t h e r i v e r b a n k . T h e y lie face u p i n t h e grass, n o t t o u c h i n g , h e a d close t o h e a d , a w o m a n a n d h e r s e c r e t h u s b a n d . A gossamer ghost a r r o w s a n d hesitates o u t o f t h e r e e d s , a n d s t a n d s i n t h e air a b o v e t h e m i n s e c t - s h i m m e r i n g , a n d settles o n a b r i g h t i n n e r u p t u r n o f h e r dress. T h e w i n g s close u p like p a l m s . T h e b o d y , a glass w o r m , is pulsing. T h e tail-tip w i n c e s and quivers: I think this is w h e r e I c o m e in . .. Trailing a sunless a saw-jawed instinct,

multiple past,

an edible (almost liquid) vulnerability, and winged! - weightless and wondrous! up from the bloodied slime through the arms of a black rainbow scooping down in beauty he has come, he has arisen out of the pool of night!
It is! It is! I lurry!

says t h e great w o m b - w h i s p e r . Q u i t k! I .mi all e g g !

173

from O U T OF IRELAND

HARMONIES

S e a m u s o f the Smart Suit, b o x player, m a d e signals t o u s across t h e grass t u s s o c k s a n d g r a v e s t h e d a y w e all c a m e d o w n f r o m C o r k t o c o m m e m o r a t e o u r musical friend.

By Gobnait's sculpted l u m p - a slab of a w o m a n on a frieze of stone buds and the locked bodies of bees h e s t r u g g l e d i n his n o s e w i t h E n g l i s h , s h o w i n g the H o l y Stations and instructing w i t h rigid finger a n d embarrassed snorts, his b o x s q u e e z e d s h u t b a c k i n t h e h o u s e w i t h M i r t n ' s p i p e s a n d t h e p a i r o f fiddles,

the same instruments, ranging together in natural sweetness, w i t h a m a n y - s o u n d e d a n d single v o i c e , that gave I o h a n n e s S c o t u s - Eriugena, and instructing the k n o w n world his h a r m o n i o u s c e r t a i n t y : t h a t t h e w o r l d ' s p a r t s , ill-fitted i n t h e i r stresses a n d t h e i r p a i n s , w i l l c o m b i n e a t last i n p o l y p h o n i c s w e e t - b r e a t h i n g u n i o n a n d all c r e a t e d N a t u r e a s c e n d l i k e j o i n e d a n g e l s , limbs and bodies departing the touch of Earth static i n a d a n c e o f r e t u r n , all M a n k i n d g a t h e r e d stunned at the world's edge silent in a c h o i r of u n d e r s t a n d i n g .

from O N E F O N D EMBRACE Enough is e n o u g h : p o r i n g (>vei ili.it organi< p o t .

i /I

I k n u c k l e d my eyes. T h e i r d r y i n g jellies a n s w e r e d w i t h speckles and images. T i m e s p u r t e d i n t h e n a r r o w s o f m y wrists c h a n n e l l e d , for t h e m o m e n t , w h e r e I c h o o s e . I leaned back and stretched a n d e m b r a c e d all this h e a r t h a n d h o m e e c h o i n g w i t h the ghosts of prides and joys, bicycles and holy terrors, o u r g r o w n and scattered loves. A n d all this p l a c e w h e r e (it o c c u r s t o m e ) I n e v e r w a n t t o b e a n y w h e r e else. W h e r e the particulars conspire. W h i c h i s n o t t o say s e r e n i t y a n d t h e i n t e r p l a y o f friends b u t t h e b r i c k walls o f this s a g g i n g d i s t r i c t , against w h i c h i t alerts m e t o k n o c k m y h e a d . W i t h a scruffy N i n e t e e n t h C e n t u r y history of half-finished c o l o n i a l s a n d u p s t a r t s . Still w i t h us. W i t h a half c h a r m , half gracious, spacious, and a miscellaneous vigour. Sniffed at. O u r n e i g h b o u r h o o d d e v e l o p e r t h i n k i n g b i g i n his soiled c r o m b i e . T h e rodent e l e m e n t bidding out

- a n d w h o will d e n y t h e m a desirable nest, s e m i - d e t a c h e d , and a p o u n d in the pocket? Catholic Action next door: t h e d o u b l e l o o k o v e r t h e half curtain; social w o r k e r s h e r d i n g t h e i r p r o b l e m s i n off t h e s t r e e t w i t h s n o o k e r cues and rosary beads; Knights of Mercedes and the naked bulb p a r k e d a t large a l o n g b o t h p a t h s in witness that the p o o r are b e i n g given a party. Invisible speculators, urinal architects and the Corporation hand in hand in potent compliant dance flourishing their C o m p u l s o r y Purchase Orders - a sovereign tool contrived for d i g g i n g o u t o u r A l i e n B e a u t i e s in their metaphysical prime (dug in t h o u g h absentee) e m p l o y e d in easement of o u r o w n native beauties, p l a n n e r s o f t h e w i p e d slate b e n t painstaking o v e r a b u n g l e d city to t u r n it i n t o a z o o : Southward from Fatima Mansions i n t o t h e foothills to w h e r e the transplanted can t r u d g e f r o m C h e r r y f i e l d H e i g h t s via W o o d b i n e C r e s c e n t t h r o u g h B r i d g e t ' s T e r r a c e a n d K e n n e d y ' s Villas by Ard na Grine and O i l na Gaoithe

l /(i

t o S h a n g r i - L a for a b o t t l e o f m i l k ; N o r t h w a r d past o u r t w i n n e d e x p e r i m e n t a l c o n c r e t e p i s s - t o w e r s for t h e u n d e r p r i v i l e g e d ; and at the heart, w h e r e the river runs t h r o u g h V i k i n g ghosts at every tide past a set of s h a d o w s t r u c t u r e s t h a t o u r city f a t h e r s , f u m b l i n g i n t h e i r s h a d o w b u d g b e h e l d in v i s i o n for a w h i l e , p u l v e r i s i n g u n t i l t h e cash failed, l a y i n g flat a n e n d u r i n g m o n u m e n t t o t h e m s e l v e s , a n office car p a r k s u n k d e e p i n h i s t o r y . M a y t h e i r s e w e r s blast u n d e r t h e m ! A sluggish c r e a t u r e a n d difficult t o h o u s e - t r a i n , i t s p a t t e r s its o w n n e s t . D i r t y m o n e y g i v e s d i r t y access. A n d we were the generation of positive disgrace. And I want to throw my pen down. A n d I w a n t t o t h r o w m y self d o w n and h a n g loose over s o m e vault of peace.

'

J O H N

M O N T A G U E

B o r n Brooklyn, 1929. Raised in C o u n t y T y r o n e by his aunts from 1933. Educated St Patrick's College, A r m a g h , and University College Dublin. A t t e n d e d postgraduate and writers' courses at a series of American universities, 1 9 5 3 - 6 . Publicity officer for Bord Filte, 1 9 5 6 - 9 . Settled in Paris, 1961, with periods teaching in Berkeley, California (1964, 1965), and University College D u b l i n , 1 9 6 7 - 7 1 . Lecturer in University College C o r k , 1 9 7 2 - 8 8 . D.Litt. from State University of N e w York, 1987. Visiting professor at University of Albany, 1 9 8 9 - . Editor of The Faber Book of Irish Verse (1974) and Bitter Harvest (1989). M o n t a g u e has published t w o works of fiction, Death of a Chieftain and Other Stories (1964) and Tlie Lost Notebook (1987). The Figure in the Cave and Other Essays appeared in 1989. T h e aesthetic at o n c e r e c o m m e n d e d and e m b o d i e d in '11 rue D a g u e r r e ' serves the tactfully symbolic art o f ' A D r i n k of Milk', ' T h e T r o u t ' and o t h e r early p o e m s by J o h n M o n t a g u e . As his career evolved, h o w e v e r , M o n t a g u e b e c a m e less interested in a poetry of implication than in an imaginative engagement w i t h history and politics. Conscious of his status as the first northern Catholic p o e t of international stature since the settlement of 1922, he evinces in his w o r k an almost bardic sense of responsibility towards the N o r t h ' s minority c o m m u n i t y and the dispossessed Gaelic world from w h i c h it derives. T w o b o o k - l e n g t h sequences, Tfie Rough Field (1972) and Tfte Dead Kingdom (1984), measure the b r o k e n history of the poet's family against the disruptions ol centuries of conflict in T y r o n e and Ireland generally. ( T h e second ol these is perhaps the m o r e successful, and certainly the m o r e integrated w o r k : its d o m i n a n t seven-syllable line, subtly interstitched with phrases of popular song, marks a considerable technical achievement. As the p o w e r of this poetry is cumulative, h o w e v e r , The Dead Kingdom is not represented here.) M o n t a g u e has seemed to m a n y to be at his best in tin short lyric of personal experience - frequently the love p o e m - in
W I I K

he displays the steady empirical fidelity p r o m o t e d by '11 rue Daguerre' An art of underemphasis and curtailment, his poetry can raisereticence to the status of e l o q u e n c e .

I /H

I.IKE DOLMENS R O U N D MY C H I L D H O O D , T H E OLD PEOPLE Like d o l m e n s r o u n d m y c h i l d h o o d , t h e old p e o p l e . J a m i e M a c C r y s t a l s a n g t o himself, A broken song without tune, without words; He tipped me a p e n n y every pension day, F e d k i n d l y crusts t o w i n t e r b i r d s . W h e n h e d i e d , his c o t t a g e w a s r o b b e d , Mattress and m o n e y b o x t o r n and searched. O n l y the corpse they didn't disturb. Maggie O w e n s was s u r r o u n d e d by animals, A mongrel bitch and shivering pups, Even in her b e d r o o m a she-goat cried. S h e w a s a w e l l o f gossip d e f d e d , banged chronicler of a w h o l e countryside: R e p u t e d a w i t c h , all I c o u l d find Was her lonely n e e d to deride. T h e Nialls lived a l o n g a m o u n t a i n lane W h e r e h e a t h e r bells b l o o m e d , c l u m p s o f f o x g l o v e . All w e r e b l i n d , w i t h B l i n d P e n s i o n a n d W i r e l e s s , I )ead eyes serpent-flicked as o n e e n t e r e d To shelter from a d o w n p o u r of m o u n t a i n rain. ( rickets chirped under the rocking hearthstone U n t i l the m u d d y sun s h o n e o u t again. Mary M o o r e lived in a c r u m b l i n g gatehouse, F a m o u s as Pisa for its l e a n i n g g a b l e . B a g - a p r o n a n d b o o t s , s h e t r a m p e d t h e fields I h i v i n g l e a n c a t t l e f r o m a m i r y stable. A b y - w o r d for f i e r c e n e s s , s h e fell asleep < )ver l o v e stories, R e d Star a n d R e d C i r c l e , I > r e a m e d o f gypsy l o v e r i t e s , b y firelight s e a l e d . W i l d Billy E a g l e s o n m a r r i e d a C a t h o l i c s e r v a n t girl W h e n all Ins Loyal family passed o n : W e d a n c e d r o u n d h i m s h o u t i n g ' T o 1 lell w i t h K i n g Billy', A n d d o d g e d from t h e arc o f h i s flailing b l a c k t h o r n , f o r s a k e n b v b o t h i r e e d s , h e s h o w e d little * O I K e r n

U n t i l t h e O r a n g e d r u m s b a n g e d past i n t h e s u m m e r A n d b o w l e r a n d sash a g g r e s s i v e l y s h o n e . Curate and doctor trudged to attend t h e m , T h r o u g h k n e e - d e e p snow, t h r o u g h s u m m e r heat, F r o m main road to lane to b r o k e n path, G u l p i n g t h e m o u n t a i n air w i t h p a i n f u l b r e a t h . Sometimes they were found by neighbours, Silent keepers of a smokeless hearth, S u d d e n l y cast i n t h e m o u l d o f d e a t h . A n c i e n t Ireland, indeed! I was reared by h e r bedside, T h e r u n e a n d t h e c h a n t , evil e y e a n d a v e r t e d h e a d , F o m o r i a n fierceness o f f a m i l y a n d l o c a l f e u d . G a u n t figures o f fear a n d o f f r i e n d l i n e s s , F o r years t h e y t r e s p a s s e d o n m y d r e a m s , U n t i l o n c e , i n a s t a n d i n g circle o f s t o n e s , I felt t h e i r s h a d o w s pass Into that dark p e r m a n e n c e of ancient forms.

THE TROUT Flat o n t h e b a n k I p a r t e d R u s h e s t o ease m y h a n d s In the w a t e r w i t h o u t a ripple A n d tilt t h e m s l o w l y d o w n s t r e a m T o w h e r e h e lay, t e n d r i l l i g h t , I n his fluid s e n s u a l d r e a m . Bodiless lord of creation I h u n g briefly a b o v e h i m Savouring m y o w n absence Senses e x p a n d i n g i n t h e s l o w M o t i o n , the p h o t o g r a p h i c calm T h a t grows before action. As the curve of my hands S w u n g u n d e i Ins b o d y
I Ml I

H e s u r g e d , w i t h visible p l e a s u r e . I w a s so p r e t e r n a t u r a l l y c l o s e I c o u l d c o u n t every stipple B u t still cast n o s h a d o w , u n t i l T h e t w o palms crossed in a cage U n d e r t h e l i g h t l y p u l s i n g gills. T h e n (entering m y o w n enlarged Shape, w h i c h rode on the water) I g r i p p e d . T o this d a y I c a n T a s t e his t e r r o r o n m y h a n d s .

A DRINK OF MILK In the girdered dark o f t h e b y r e , cattle m o v e ; w a r m engines hushed to a s i d i n g g r o o v e b e f o r e t h e s w i t c h flicks d o w n for m i l k i n g . In concrete partitions t h e y rattle their chains w h i l e t h e f a r m h a n d eases r u b b e r tentacles to t u g lightly b u t rhythmically on their swollen dugs a n d up t h e pale cylinders of the milking machine mounts an untouched steadily pulsing stream. O n l y t h e t a b b y steals t o d i p its r a d a r w h i s k e r s w i t h o l d f a s h i o n e d relish
in a c h i p p e d s a i u er

i HI

and before Sen lurches t o k i c k his b o o t s off in the night-silent kitchen he draws a m u g of froth t o settle o n t h e s i d e b o a r d u n d e r t h e h o a r d o f delft. A p o u n d i n g transistor shakes the Virgin on h e r shelf as he dreams towards bed. A last g l a n c e at a m a g a z i n e , h e p u t s t h e m u g t o his h e a d , grunts, a n d drains it clean.

from A C H O S E N LIGHT
I 11 R U E D A G U E R R E

At night, s o m e t i m e s , w h e n I c a n n o t sleep I go to t h e atelier d o o r A n d smell t h e earth of the garden. It e x h a l e s softly, Especially n o w , a p p r o a c h i n g s p r i n g t i m e , W h e n tendrils o f g r e e n are plaited A c r o s s t h e h u m u s , d e s p e r a t e l y frail I n t h e i r passage against T h e dark, u n r e d e e m e d parcels o f earth. T h e r e is w h i t e light on the cobblestones A n d in the apartment house opposite All f o u r floors - s i l e n c e . In t h a t stillness - soft b u t l u m i n o u s l y e x a c t , A chosen light - I notice that T h e tips o f t h e lately grafted c h e r r y - t r e e A r e a firm a n d l a c q u e r e d black.
IH.

FAMILY C O N F E R E N C E W h e n t h e wall b e t w e e n h e r a n d g h o s t W e a r s t h i n , t h e n snuff, sgittor^rij, S o o t h i n g drink c a n n o t restrain: S h e ransacks t h e e m p t y h o u s e . T h e latch, creaks w i t h t h e v o i c e Of a husband, the crab of death S e t i n his b o w e l s , e v e n t h e soft m o o n C a u g h t i n the b a t h r o o m w i n d o w Is a grieving w o m a n , her m o t h e r S e a r c h i n g for h o m e i n t h e A s y l u m . W h a t a w a i t s , s h e n o l o n g e r fears A s d a w n paints i n t h e f e w t r e e s Of h e r landscape, a rusty shed A n d garden. Today grandchildren C a l l , b u t w h a t has s h e t o say T o the b u o y a n t living, w h o m a y Raise f a m i l y secrets w i t h t h e d e a d ? /ytux-p^
r

THE SAME GESTURE T h e r e is a s e c r e t r o o m of golden light w h e r e everything - love, violence, h a t r e d is p o s s i b l e ; a n d , again l o v e . Such intimacy of hand and m i n d is achieved u n d e r its h e a l i n g l i g h t t h a t t h e shifting o f h a n d s is a rite like c o u r t m u s i c . W e barely k n o w o u r selves t h e r e t h o u g h it is w h a t we a l w a y s w e r e
most n a k e d l y .ue

IM

and must r e m e m b e r w h e n w e leave, r e s u m i n g o u r habits with o u r clothes: w o r k , p h o n e , drive t h r o u g h late traffic c h a n g i n g gears w i t h the same gesture as eased y o u r s n o w b o u n d heart and flesh.

LAST J O U R N E Y
X.M.James Montague

W e stand t o g e t h e r on the w i n d y platform; h o w crisp t h e rails r u n n i n g o u t o f sight t h r o u g h t h e w e t fields! C a r n e y , the station master, is p e e r i n g o v e r his f r o s t e d w i n d o w : t h e h a n d o f t h e signal points d o w n . C r o w n e d with churns a cart creaks up t h e incline of M a i n Street to t h e sliding doors of the C o - O p . A s m e l l of c o a l , the train is c o m i n g . . . y o u c l i m b slowly in, propped by my hand to a seat, b a c k t o t h e e n g i n e ,

I HI

and we leave, waving a p l u m e of black s m o k e over the rushy m e a d o w s , small hills & h i d d e n villag Beragh, Carrickmore, Pomeroy, Fintona p l a c e n a m e s t h a t sigh like a pressed m e l o d e o n across this f o r g o t t e n N o r t h e r n landscape.

SMALL SECRETS Where I work out of doors children c o m e to present me with an acorn a pine cone small s e c r e t s a n d a fat grass snail w h o uncoils t o c a r r y his whorled house over the top o f m y table. W i t h a pencil I nudge him back into himself, b u t fluid h o r n s unfurl, d a m p tentacles, to

IH'.

p r o b e , test space b e f o r e h e drags his habitation forward again o n his s i n g l e muscular foot rippling along its l i q u i d selfcreating path. W i t h absorbed, a n i m a l faces the children watch us both b u t he will have n o n e of m e , t h e static angular w o r l d of b o o k s , papers w h i c h is neither green nor moist only to climb around, over as w i t h restless g l i s t e n i n g e n e r g y , h e races at full tilt over the ledge o n t o t h e grass. All I am left w i t h is, b e t w e e n pine cone & acorn t h e silver s m e a r o f his p r o g r e s s w h i c h will s o o n

\H(,

w e a r off, l i k e t h e silvery galaxies, m o t h e r o f pearl motorways, woven across t h e grass each m o r n i n g by t h e tireless snails of the world, m i n u t e as grains o f r i c e , gross as c o n c h or triton, bequeathi n g t h e i r shells to the earth.

DOWAGER I d w e l l i n this l e a k y W e s t e r n castle. A m e r i c a n m a t r o n s w e a v e across t h e c a r p e t , S o r e f o o t e d as c a m e l s , a n d less useful. S m o o t h I o n i c c o l u m n s h o l d u p a roof. A c h a n d e l i e r s h i n e s on a f o x h o u n d ' s c o a t : T h e grandson of a g r a n d m o t h e r I reared. I n t h e o l d days I r e a d o r e m b r o i d e r e d , B u t n o w i t i s e n o u g h t o see t h e sky c h a n g e , Clouds extend or smother a mountain's shape. W e t afternoons I ride in t h e Rolls; W i n d s h i e l d w i p e r s f l a i l h e l p l e s s against t h e r a i n : I t h r a s h t h r o u g h p o o l s l i k e s m a s h i n g p a n e s o f glass. A n d t h e light a f t e r w a r d s ! H e d g e s s t e a m , I ride t h r o u g h a d a m p t u n n e l of sweetness, T h e b o n n e t s t r e w n w i t h bridal h a w t h o r n

187

F r o m w h i c h a silver l a d y leaps, a l w a y s y o u n g . A l o n e , I h u m w i t h satisfaction i n t h e s u n , An old bitch, w i t h a w a r m mouthful of game.

from T H E CAVE OF N I G H T III CAVE T h e rifled h o n e y c o m b of the high-rise hotel where a wind tunnel moans. While jungleclad troops r a n s a c k t h e Falls, r a c e t h r o u g h h u d d l e d streets, w e lie a w a k e , t h e w i d e w i n d o w w a s h e d w i t h rain, y o u r o v a l face, a n d t i d e of yellow hair l u m i n o u s a s y o u t u r n t o m e again seeking refuge as t h e cave of night b l o o m s w i t h fresh e x p l o s i o n s .

HERBERT STREET REVISITED for Madeleine

I

A l i g h t is b u r n i n g late i n this G e o r g i a n D u b l i n street: s o m e o n e i s l e a d i n g o u r o l d lives! A n d o u r b l a c k cat s c a m p e r s again t h r o u g h t h e w e t grass o f t h e c o n v e n t g a r d e n u p o n his m a s c u l i n e e r r a n d s . T h e pubs shut: a released bull, Behan shoulders up the street, topples into o u r basement, roaring 'John!'
I HH

A p o n y and d o n k e y cropped flank b y f l a n k u n d e r t h e trees o p p o s i t e ; short neck u p , l o n g neck d o w n , as Nurse Mullen knelt by her bedside t o p r a y for h e r lost M a y o hills, the bruised bodies of Easter V o l u n t e e r s . Animals, neighbours, treading the pattern of o n e t i m e and place into history, like o u r early marriage, w h i l e tall w i n d o w s l o o k e d d o w n u p o n u s f r o m walls f l u s h e d l i g h t p i n k o r s a l m o n w a t c h i n g and e n d u r i n g succession. II As I leave, y o u w h i s p e r , 'don't betray our truth' a n d like a g h o s t d a n c e r , i n v o k i n g a lost tribal s t r e n g t h I h a l t in t r e e - f e d d a r k n e s s t o s u m m o n b a c k o u r past, and celebrate a love that eased so kindly, the dying b o n e , e n a b l i n g t h e spirit t o s i n g of old happiness, w h e n alone.
ill

So p u t t h e leaves b a c k on t h e tree, put the tree back in the ground, let B r e n d a n t r u n d l e his c o r p s e d o w n t h e s t r e e t s i n g i n g , like M o l l y M a l o n e . Let t h e b l a c k c a t , t i n y e m i s s a r y o f o u r h a p p i n e s s , streak again t h r o u g h t h e d a r k n e s s , t o tall soft clawed into landlord's dustbin.

18V

L e t N u r s e M u l l e n t a k e t h e last train to W e s t p o r t , a n d die u p r i g h t in h e r chair, facing a w i n d o w w a r m w i t h t h e b l u e slopes o f N e p h i n . A n d let t h e p o n y a n d d o n k e y c o m e l o o k , s o m e o n e has left t h e g a t e o p e n like h o b b y h o r s e s l i n k e d i n the slow m o t i o n of a dream p a r a d i n g side b y s i d e , d o w n the length of H e r b e r t Street, r i s i n g a n d falling, lifting their hooves through the moonlight.

I'M)

J A M E S

S I M M O N S

Born Derry, 1933. Educated at Foyle College, D e n y , Campbell College, Belfast, and University of Leeds. T a u g h t at Friends' School, Lisburn, 1 9 5 8 - 6 3 , and A h m a d u Bello University, Nigeria, 1 9 6 3 - 6 . F o u n d e d the Honest Ulsterman, 1968. Lecturer in English and drama at N e w University of Ulster, Coleraine, 1 9 6 8 - 8 6 . Presently co-director of the Poets' H o u s e , a creative w r i t i n g school in P o r t m u c k , C o u n t y Antrim. A singer-songwriter as well as a p o e t , S i m m o n s has published a critical study, Sean O'Casey (1983). Wary of rhetoric and of what he sees as the
elitist

assumptions of m u c h

m o d e r n verse, S i m m o n s adheres to traditional forms and a t o u g h , colloquially based poetic language. His characteristic idiom offers a u c e t - w i s e counterpart to J o h n H e w i t t ' s Calvinistic neatness. T h e n o t e of wry melancholy in the selected pieces is typical.

O N E OF T H E BOYS O u r y o u t h w a s gay b u t r o u g h , m u c h drink and copulation. If that seems n o t e n o u g h blame our miseducation. In shabby boarding houses lips c o v e r e d lips, and in o u r wild carouses there were companionships. C h e a p and m u n d a n e the setting o f all t h a t w e r e m e m b e r : in August, dance-hall petting, cinemas in December. N o w middle-aged I know, and do not hide the truth, u s e d o r m i s u s e d years g o anil t a k e all k i n d s of y o u t h . W e test t h e foreign s c e n e o i g l o w t o o fat i n b a n k s ,

191

s a l e s m e n for m a r g a r i n e , soldiers in tanks, t h e g r e a t c a r e e r s all t r i c k s , t h e fine arts all m y arse, business and politics a c r u e l farce. T h o u g h fear o f g e t t i n g fired m a y ease, a n d w o r k is h a t e d less, w e are t i r e d , t i r e d and incapacitated. O n golf courses, i n bars, c r u t c h e d b y t h e cash w e e a r n , w e t h i n k o f n i g h t s i n cars with energy to burn.

WEST STRAND VISIONS T h e m a n alone a t the third floor w i n d o w is t h e m a n a l o n e at t h e cliff s e d g e . B e l o w h i m gulls are c u t t i n g e a c h o t h e r ' s i n v i s i b l e p a t h s o f flight. B e n t s i d e w a y s i n his c o c k p i t a b o v e t h e d o g - f i g h t alone he observes engaging bi-planes l o c k e d i n e a c h o t h e r ' s sights a n d s t r a t e g i e s , diving, swerving and climbing heavily, a n d d r o n i n g e a r t h w a r d i n flames. T h e m a n watching the pony-girl waving o n t h e W e s t S t r a n d t o h e r t h r e e assistants and suddenly rearing her horse and wheeling off at a c a n t e r , f o l l o w e d by d o n k e y s into t h e grey curtain of rain, is the m a n w a t c h i n g barbarians gather, T a m b u r l a i n e , w a s it, o r G e n g h i s K h a n , shaggy in robes strange to the w a t c h e r , returned from reconnoitring, deciding and acting on G o d ' s plan.
1

T h e m a n w h o watches neglected children leaping in y e l l o w light of sunset b y waters w h i p p e d b y w i n d , majestic ten yards o u t a n d f i e r c e , but gentle in the shallows, is m e , estranged from mystery, t r y i n g t o h e a r w h a t t h e y say, envying no one in the world but they w h o n e v e r u s e w o r d s like ' b e a u t y ' , s h o u t i n g i n a p p a r e n t ecstasy a p a n e o f glass a n d f i f t y y a r d s a w a y .

FROM T H E IRISH Most terrible was o u r h e r o in battle blows: h a n d s w i t h o u t fingers, s h o r n h e a d s a n d t o e s w e r e s c a t t e r e d . T h a t d a y t h e r e f l e w a n d fell from astonished victims e y e b r o w , b o n e and entrail, like stars i n t h e sky, l i k e s n o w f l a k e s , l i k e n u t s i n M a y , like a m e a d o w o f daisies, l i k e b u t t s f r o m a n a s h t r a y . F a m i l i a r t h i n g s , y o u m i g h t b r u s h against o r t r e a d u p o n i n t h e daily r o u n d , w e r e g l i s t e n i n g r e d with the slaughter the h e r o caused, t h o u g h he had g o n e . B y p r o x y his b o m b e x p l o d e d , his v a l o u r s h o n e .

I'M

B R E N D A N

K E N N E L L Y

B o r n Ballylongford, C o u n t y Kerry, 1936. E d u c a t e d at St Ita's College, Tarbert, Trinity College D u b l i n , and the University of Leeds. Has taught for three decades at T C D , w h e r e he is professor of m o d e r n literature. Kennelly is a prolific p o e t w h o s e verse shares s o m e t h i n g of the conversational fluency for w h i c h he is celebrated as a media personality A m o r e bracing, driven and antithetical quality enters his w o r k in Cromwell (1983), a sequence of 254 narrative and dramatic p o e m s and m o c k sonnets. H e r e Kennelly addresses the bloody imperatives of Irish history by way of a series of fantastic confrontations b e t w e e n such archetypal figures as E d m u n d Spenser, the Belly, the Butcher, O l i v e r C r o m w e l l and his complicitous victim, Buffun.

from CROMWELL

THREE TIDES

I n o u r v e r y o w n little civil w a r T h e sea, a s e m p l o y e d b y s o m e , i s a n e x e m p l a r y w e a p o n C o m b i n i n g a n a b i l i t y t o finish a j o b W i t h a r e l i a b l e style o f h u m i l i a t i o n . P r o p e r u s e o f s u c h e l e m e n t a l efficiency, h o w e v e r , I s available o n l y t o t h o s e w h o k n o w T h e sea's j u d i c i a l c h a r a c t e r I n its c o n s t i t u t i o n a l e b b a n d f l o w . As it approaches the shore It n u d g e s , first, a s h y , f r o t h f u l p o i s o n R e m i n i s c e n t o f t h e s l i m e o n d y i n g lips P r i o r t o t h a t r a t t l e t h a t c a n still S h r e d e v e n t h e m o s t k n i t t e d family A n d c a u s e fretful s p e c u l a t i o n a b o u t a w i l l . T h i s is a s l o w p o i s o n , r h y t h m i c a l l y , sensually s l o w . Perhaps the stimulating m o o n Q u i c k e n s t h e p a c e b e c a u s e o u r l a w - a b i d i n g sea Accelerates like a w e l l - e x e c u t e d plan
I'M

()f dependable d r o w n i n g waves, inexorable as generations O f a fertile C a t h o l i c family t r u e t o G o d ' s Randy laws, c o m i n g , g o i n g , c o m i n g , g o i n g , like sons And daughters t o w o r k o r hell o r m o n e y o r E n g l a n d o r s p a w n i n g beds. P r o p e r l y j u d g e d , a m a n b u r i e d u p t o his n e c k i n t h e s h o r e Will t a k e t h r e e t i d e s t o d i e . H i s b r o t h e r s ( m i n e t o o ) say T h i s g i v e s h i m t i m e t o m e d i t a t e o n his m i s t a k e I n t a k i n g t h e w r o n g side i n t h a t m o s t u n c i v i l w a r . U n l i k e o u r m a n l y l a n d , o u r sea has n e v e r l i e d . M y father d r o w n s t o t h e m o o n ' s laws, h e a d t o o n e side.
VINTAGE

J i m e e n C o n n o r , the butcher, is c o m i n g r o u n d T h e c o r n e r o f t h e g a r a g e w h e r e his c a b i n Stands, cosy e n o u g h t h e r e o n sheltered g r o u n d . P a s s i n g t h e s p u d s a n d c a b b a g e i n his g a r d e n H e rams the m e a t h o o k into Oliver's belly, Lifts h i m h o l u s - b o l u s , h a n g s h i m f r o m t h e i r o n Ring. Soon enough, the ground is bloody. Oliver protests, gurgling. J i m e e n is g o n e F o r his h a c k s a w , h e ' s b a c k , h e ' s c u t t i n g O l i v e r u p , h e ' s c a t c h i n g t h e b l o o d i n a plastic B u c k e t , h e smiles s t r e t c h i n g i t t o w a r d s m e : 'I'll h a v e t o salt a n d b a r r e l O i l y b e f o r e e a t i n g . T r y this o l d P u r i t a n w i n e . V i n t a g e . K n o c k i t b a c k . ' If this is a d r e a m , I d r e a m it scares me Because the blood of that honest H u n t i n g d o n farmer T u r n e d soldier t u r n e d statesman, albeit n o t w i n e A s rashly a n n o u n c e d b y t h e b u t c h e r C o n n o r , Seemed m u c h the same as yours or mine. I c o u l d h a v e s w o r n as I s t o o d t h e r e w a t c h i n g I t p o u r i n t o t h e plastic b u c k e t I s a w a n d h e a r d t h e lips m u r m u r i n g R e l i g i o u s l y , ' F u c k it. F u c k it.' N e x t , d i e b u t c h e r - o r w a s i t myself? - t i p p e d
T h e b u c k e t o n its s i d e , t h e b l o o d S p l a s h e d t h e g l a s s i n a red i i m t i l y s p r a w l .

|V5

I r e m e m b e r thinking, as the b l o o d escaped I n t o the earth, that O l i v e r did w h a t O l i v e r did. S o d i d t h e b u t c h e r . S o d o I . S o d o w e all.

19ft

S E A M U S

H E A N E Y

Born Mossbawn, T a m n i a r n , C o u n t y Derry, 1939. Educated at St C o l u m b ' s College, Derry, and Q u e e n ' s University Belfast. W o r k e d as a secondary school teacher, 1 9 6 2 - 3 . Lecturer at St Joseph's College, Belfast, 1 9 6 3 - 6 and at Q u e e n ' s University, 1 9 6 6 - 7 0 . Guest lecturer at University of California, Berkeley, 1 9 7 0 - 1 . Lived as a freelance writer at G l a n m o r e , C o u n t y W i c k l o w , 1 9 7 1 - 5 . Lecturer at Carysfort College, D u b l i n , 1975. H e a d of English d e p a r t m e n t , Carysfort, 1 9 7 6 - 8 1 . F o u n d e r m e m b e r and director of Field Day T h e a t r e C o m p a n y , 1980. Lecturer at University of Harvard, 1 9 8 2 - 4 . Boylston Professor of Rhetoric and O r a t o r y at Harvard since 1984. Professor of Poetry, Oxford University, 1 9 8 9 - 9 4 . Has published t w o influential collections of critical essays, Preoccupations (1980) and Hie Government of the Tongue (1988). The Cure at Troy, a version of Sophocles' Phibctetes, was staged by Field Day at Derry's Guildhall in 1990. From the subtly emblematic rural naturalism of ' C h u r n i n g Day' t h r o u g h the m y t h o p o e i c grandeur o f ' N o r t h ' (represented here by 'Funeral Rites') to the adroit cerebration o f ' F r o m the C a n t o n of Expectation' and 'Lightenings', H e a n e y has b e e n the most protean, as well as the most internationally visible, Irish poet since Yeats. His career in s o m e respects shadows that of the earlier writer: his Bloody Sunday p o e m 'Casualty' can be read at o n c e as a critique of ' T h e Fisherman' and as an attempt to define the lyric imagination's responsibilities to its troubled times in a m o r e ethically alert and egalitarian way than Yeats did. A c o n c e r n with loss and its potential retrieval in art persists t h r o u g h I leaney's m a n y changes of style and direction. T h e early w o r k finds in lyric accomplishment itself a consoling analogue for the vanishing skills and crafts of the countryside. T h e p o e m s of the early 1970s seek to disinter lost historical possibilities e m b e d d e d in H i b e r n o - E n g l i s h - as 'Broagh', for example, does by meditating on a C o u n t y Derry place name. An increasingly intimate c o n c e r n for the victims of the n o r t h e r n violence leaves Heaney's art tentative and equivocal w i t h regard to its restorative powers in 'Casualty' and the o t h e r elegies of Field Work (1979), a pivotal v o l u m e . T h e later books bring a variety of m o o d and m o d e to their exploration of the relationship b e t w e e n artistic a u t o n o m y and c o m m i t m e n t , m e m o r y and invention, inheritance and personal identity. T a k e n as a w h o l e , Heaney's w o r k orchestrates a debate I'd w e e n what i s earthy, rooted, d u m b or instinctive, on the o n e hand, and ethereal, unconstrained, articulate or rational, on the other. In formal resoun e i t s success in keeping going it has few parallels
in i oiiiciiipoiai y pi >(( i \

19

C H U R N I N G DAY A t h i c k c r u s t , c o a r s e - g r a i n e d as l i m e s t o n e r o u g h - c a s t , h a r d e n e d gradually on t o p of the four crocks t h a t s t o o d , large p o t t e r y b o m b s , i n t h e s m a l l p a n t r y . After t h e h o t b r e w e r y o f gland, c u d a n d u d d e r cool porous earthenware fermented the buttermilk for c h u r n i n g d a y , w h e n t h e h o o p e d c h u r n w a s s c o u r e d w i t h p l u m p i n g kettles and the busy s c r u b b e r e c h o e d daintily o n the seasoned w o o d . It stood then, purified, on the flagged k i t c h e n floor. O u t c a m e t h e f o u r c r o c k s , spilled t h e i r h e a v y lip o f c r e a m , their w h i t e insides, i n t o t h e sterile c h u r n . T h e staff, l i k e a g r e a t w h i s k y m u d d l e r f a s h i o n e d i n deal w o o d , w a s p l u n g e d i n , t h e lid f i t t e d . M y m o t h e r t o o k f i r s t t u r n , set u p r h y t h m s t h a t s l u g g e d a n d t h u m p e d for h o u r s . A r m s a c h e d . H a n d s blistered. C h e e k s and clothes w e r e spattered with flabby milk. W h e r e finally g o l d f l e c k s began to dance. T h e y poured hot water then, sterilized a b i r c h w o o d - b o w l a n d little c o r r u g a t e d b u t t e r - s p a d e s . T h e i r short stroke quickened, suddenly a yellow curd was w e i g h t i n g the c h u r n e d up w h i t e , heavy and rich, coagulated sunlight t h a t t h e y fished, d r i p p i n g , i n a w i d e t i n s t r a i n e r , h e a p e d u p like g i l d e d g r a v e l i n t h e b o w l . T h e h o u s e w o u l d s t i n k l o n g after c h u r n i n g d a y , acrid a s a s u l p h u r m i n e . T h e e m p t y c r o c k s w e r e r a n g e d a l o n g t h e wall again, the b u t t e r i n soft p r i n t e d slabs w a s p i l e d o n p a n t r y s h e l v e s . A n d i n t h e h o u s e w e m o v e d w i t h gravid ease, o u r b r a i n s t u r n e d crystals full o f clean deal c h u r n s , t h e plash a n d g u r g l e o f t h e s o u r - b r e a t h e d m i l k , t h e p a t a n d slap o f small s p a d e s o n w e t l u m p s .

I'm

BROAGH Riverbank, the long rigs ending in broad docken and a canopied pad d o w n t o t h e ford. T h e garden mould b r u i s e d easily, t h e s h o w e r gathering in your heelmark was the black O in Broagh,

its l o w t a t t o o a m o n g the windy boortrees and rhubarb-blades e n d e d almost s u d d e n l y , l i k e t h a t last gh t h e s t r a n g e r s f o u n d difficult t o m a n a g e .

T H E T O L L U N D MAN
I

S o m e day I will go to A a r h u s T o see his p e a t - b r o w n h e a d , T h e m i l d p o d s o f his e y e - l i d s , H i s p o i n t e d skin c a p . I n t h e flat c o u n t r y n e a r b y W h e r e they dug him out, H i s last g r u e l o f w i n t e r s e e d s C a k e d i n his s t o m a c h ,

i'i')

N a k e d e x c e p t for T h e cap, noose and girdle, I will s t a n d a l o n g t i m e . B r i d e g r o o m to the goddess, She tightened her tore on h i m A n d o p e n e d h e r fen, T h o s e dark juices w o r k i n g H i m t o a saint's k e p t b o d y , T r o v e of the turfcutters' H o n e y c o m b e d workings. N o w his s t a i n e d face Reposes at Aarhus.
II

I c o u l d risk b l a s p h e m y , Consecrate the cauldron bog O u r holy g r o u n d and pray H i m to make germinate T h e scattered, a m b u s h e d Flesh o f l a b o u r e r s , Stockinged corpses Laid o u t i n t h e f a r m y a r d s , Tell-tale skin a n d teeth Flecking the sleepers O f four y o u n g b r o t h e r s , trailed F o r m i l e s a l o n g t h e lines.

Ill

S o m e t h i n g o f his sad f r e e d o m As he rode the tumbril Should c o m e to m e , driving, Saying the n a m e s

Tollund, Grabaulle, Nebelgard, Watching the pointing hands Of country people, N o t k n o w i n g their tongue. O u t there in Jutland In the old m a n - k i l l i n g parishes I will feel lost, U n h a p p y and at h o m e .

MOSSBAWN: T W O POEMS IN DEDICATION for Mary Heaney I SUNLIGHT T h e r e was a sunlit absence. T h e h e l m e t e d p u m p in the yard h e a t e d its i r o n , water honeyed in the slung bucket and the sun stood like a g r i d d l e c o o l i n g against t h e w a l l of each long afternoon. S o , h e r h a n d s scuffled over the bakeboard, the r e d d e n i n g stove s e n t its p l a q u e o f h e a t against h e r w h e r e s h e s t o o d in a f l o u r y a p r o n by the w i n d o w . N o w she dusts the b o a r d with a goose's wing, n o w sits, b r o a d - l a p p e d , w i t h w h i t e n e d n.nls

i.i

a n d m e a s l i n g shins: h e r e is a s p a c e again, t h e s c o n e rising to the tick of t w o clocks. A n d here is love like a t i n s m i t h ' s s c o o p s u n k past its g l e a m in the meal-bin.

FUNERAL RITES I I s h o u l d e r e d a k i n d of m a n h o o s t e p p i n g i n t o lift t h e coffins of dead relations. T h e y h a d b e e n laid o u t in tainted rooms, their eyelids glistening, their d o u g h - w h i t e hands shackled in rosary beads. T h e i r puffed knuckles h a d u n w r i n k l e d , t h e nails w e r e d a r k e n e d , t h e wrists obediently sloped. T h e dulse-brown shroud, t h e q u i l t e d satin cribs: I knelt courteously a d m i r i n g it all as wax melted d o w n and veined the candles, t h e flames h o v e r i n g to the w o m e n hovering

02

behind me. A n d always, in a c o r n e r , t h e coffin lid, its n a i l - h e a d s d r e s s e d w i t h little g l e a m i n g crosses. D e a r soapstone masks, kissing t h e i r i g l o o b r o w s h a d t o suffice b e f o r e t h e nails w e r e s u n k and t h e black glacier of each funeral pushed away.
II

N o w as news comes in of each neighbourly m u r d e r w e p i n e for c e r e m o n y , customary rhythms: the t e m p e r a t e footsteps o f a c o r t e g e , w i n d i n g past each blinded h o m e . I w o u l d restore the great c h a m b e r s of B o y n e , prepare a sepulchre u n d e r the c u p m a r k e d stones. O u t o f side-streets and by-roads p u r r i n g f a m i l y cars nose into line, the w h o l e country tunes to the muffled d r u m m i n g of ten thousand engines. S o n ina in bulant w o m e n , left b e h i n d , m o v e t h r o u g h e n i p l i e d kit< liens

.'ii t

imagining our slow triumph towards the mounds. Q u i e t as a s e r p e n t in its grassy b o u l e v a r d t h e p r o c e s s i o n drags its tail out of the Gap of the N o r t h as its h e a d a l r e a d y e n t e r s the megalithic doorway.
Ill

W h e n they have put the stone b a c k i n its m o u t h w e will d r i v e n o r t h a g a i n past S t r a n g a n d C a r l i n g fjords, the cud of m e m o r y allayed for o n c e , a r b i t r a t i o n of the feud placated, i m a g i n i n g t h o s e u n d e r t h e hill disposed like G u n n a r w h o lay b e a u t i f u l i n s i d e his b u r i a l m o u n d , though dead by violence and unavenged. M e n said t h a t h e w a s c h a n t i n g verses a b o u t h o n o u r a n d that four lights b u r n e d in corners of the chamber: which opened then, as he turned w i t h a j o y f u l face to look at the m o o n .

MI

CASUALTY
I

He w o u l d drink by himself A n d raise a w e a t h e r e d t h u m b T o w a r d s t h e h i g h shelf, Calling another r u m A n d blackcurrant, without H a v i n g t o raise his v o i c e , Or order a quick stout B y a lifting o f t h e e y e s A n d a discreet d u m b - s h o w O f p u l l i n g off* t h e t o p ; At closing time w o u l d go In w a d e r s and p e a k e d cap Into the s h o w e r y dark, A dole-kept breadwinner B u t a n a t u r a l for w o r k . I l o v e d his w h o l e m a n n e r , S u r e - f o o t e d b u t t o o sly, His d e a d p a n sidling tact, His fisherman's quick eye A n d turned observant back. Incomprehensible T o h i m , m y o t h e r life. S o m e t i m e s , o n his h i g h s t o o l , T o o b u s y w i t h his k n i f e At a t o b a c c o plug And not meeting my eye, In t h e p a u s e after a slug He m e n t i o n e d poetry. We would be on our own A n d , always politic A n d shy o f c o n d e s c e n s i o n , I w o u l d m a n a g e by s o m e trick T o s w i t c h t h e talk t o eels ( ) r l o r e o f t h e h o r s e a n d cart
( >i t h e P r o v i s i o n a l s .

205

B u t m y t e n t a t i v e art His turned back watches too: H e w a s b l o w n t o bits O u t drinking in a curfew O t h e r s o b e y e d , three nights After they shot dead T h e thirteen m e n in Derry. PARAS T H I R T E E N , t h e walls said BOGSIDE NIL. T h a t W e d n e s d a y Everybody held His breath and trembled.
II

It w a s a d a y of c o l d R a w silence, w i n d - b l o w n Surplice and soutane: Rained-on, flower-laden C o f f i n after coffin S e e m e d t o float f r o m t h e d o o r O f the packed cathedral Like blossoms on slow water. T h e c o m m o n funeral U n r o l l e d its s w a d d l i n g b a n d , Lapping, tightening Till w e w e r e b r a c e d and b o u n d L i k e b r o t h e r s in a r i n g . But he w o u l d not be held A t h o m e b y his o w n c r o w d W h a t e v e r threats w e r e p h o n e d , W h a t e v e r b l a c k flags w a v e d . I see h i m a s h e t u r n e d In that b o m b e d offending place R e m o r s e fused w i t h t e r r o r I n his still k n o w a b l e face, H i s c o r n e r e d o u t f a c e d stare B l i n d i n g i n t h e flash. He had g o n e miles away F o r lie d r a n k like a fish

.'IK,

Nightly, naturally S w i m m i n g towards the lure O f w a r m lit-up places, T h e blurred mesh and m u r m u r D r i f t i n g a m o n g glasses In the gregarious smoke. H o w culpable was h e T h a t last n i g h t w h e n h e b r o k e O u r tribe's complicity? ' N o w you're supposed to be An educated man,' I h e a r h i m say. ' P u z z l e m e T h e r i g h t answer t o that o n e . '
Ill

I m i s s e d his f u n e r a l , Those quiet walkers A n d sideways talkers S h o a l i n g o u t o f his l a n e T o the respectable P u r r i n g of t h e h e a r s e . . . T h e y m o v e in equal pace W i t h the habitual Slow consolation Of a dawdling engine, T h e l i n e lifted, h a n d O v e r fist, c o l d s u n s h i n e O n the water, the land B a n k e d u n d e r fog: t h a t m o r n i n g W h e n h e t o o k m e i n his b o a t , T h e screw purling, turning Indolent fathoms white, I tasted f r e e d o m w i t h h i m . T o get o u t early, haul S t e a d i l y off t h e b o t t o m , Dispraise t h e catch, and smile As y o u find a r h y t h m W o r k i n g you, slow mile by mile
Inlo your p r o p e r haunt S o m e w h e r e , well out, b e y o n d . .

I/

Dawn-sniffing revenant, P l o d d e r t h r o u g h m i d n i g h t rain, Q u e s t i o n m e again.

BADGERS W h e n the badger glimmered away into another garden y o u s t o o d , half-lit w i t h w h i s k e y , sensing y o u had disturbed s o m e soft r e t u r n i n g . T h e m u r d e r e d dead, you thought. But could it not have been some violent shattered boy nosing o u t w h a t got mislaid b e t w e e n the cradle and the explosion, evenings w h e n w i n d o w s stood open a n d the c o m p o s t s m o k e d d o w n t h e backs? V i s i t a t i o n s a r e t a k e n for signs. At a s e c o n d h o u s e I l i s t e n e d for d u n t i n g s u n d e r t h e laurels and heard intimations whispered about being vaguely honoured. A n d t o r e a d e v e n b y carcasses the badgers have c o m e back. O n e that g r e w n o t o r i o u s lay u n t o u c h e d i n t h e r o a d s i d e . Last n i g h t o n e h a d m e b r a k i n g b u t m o r e i n fear t h a n i n h o n o u r . C o o l from t h e sett and r e d o l e n t o f his r u n s u n d e r t h e n i g h t , t h e b o g e y o f fern c o u n t r y broke cover in me for wh.it lie is:
,>UH

p i g family a n d n o t a t all w h a t h e ' s p a i n t e d . H o w perilous is it to choose n o t t o l o v e t h e life w e ' r e s h o w n ? His sturdy dirty b o d y and interloping grovel. T h e i n t e l l i g e n c e i n his b o n e . T h e unquestionable houseboy's shoulders that could have b e e n my o w n .

T H E HARVEST B O W As y o u plaited the harvest b o w Y o u implicated the m e l l o w e d silence i n y o u In w h e a t that does n o t rust B u t brightens as it tightens twist by twist Into a knowable corona, A t h r o w a w a y l o v e - k n o t of straw. H a n d s t h a t a g e d r o u n d a s h p l a n t s a n d c a n e sticks A n d lapped the spurs on a lifetime of g a m e cocks H a r k e d t o t h e i r gift a n d w o r k e d w i t h fine i n t e n t U n t i l y o u r fingers m o v e d s o m n a m b u l a n t : I tell a n d f i n g e r it l i k e b r a i l l e , G l e a n i n g t h e u n s a i d off t h e p a l p a b l e . A n d i f I s p y i n t o its g o l d e n l o o p s I see u s w a l k b e t w e e n t h e r a i l w a y s l o p e s I n t o a n e v e n i n g o f l o n g grass a n d m i d g e s , Blue s m o k e straight u p , old beds and p l o u g h s in h e d g An auction notice on an o u t h o u s e wall Y o u w i t h a harvest b o w in y o u r lapel, M c w i t h t h e fishing r o d , a l r e a d y h o m e s i c k f o r t h e b i g lift o f t h e s e e v e n i n g s , a s y o u r s t i c k W h a c k i n g t h e tips off w e e d s a n d b u s h e s He. its o u t o f t u n e , a n d b e a t s , b u t flushes

N o t h i n g : that original t o w n l a n d Still t o n g u e - t i e d i n t h e s t r a w t i e d b y y o u r h a n d . The end of art is peace C o u l d b e t h e m o t t o o f this frail d e v i c e T h a t I h a v e p i n n e d u p o n o u r deal d r e s s e r Like a d r a w n snare S l i p p e d lately b y t h e spirit o f t h e c o r n Y e t b u r n i s h e d b y its passage, a n d still w a r m .

T H E BIRTHPLACE I T h e deal t a b l e w h e r e h e w r o t e , s o small a n d p l a i n , t h e single b e d a d r e a m o f d i s c i p l i n e . A n d a flagged k i t c h e n d o w n s t a i r s , its m o t e - s l a n t s o f t h i c k light: t h e u n p e r t u r b e d , reliable g h o s t life h e c a r r i e d , w i t h n o n e e d t o i n v e n t . A n d high trees r o u n d the h o u s e , b r e a t h e d u p o n d a y a n d n i g h t by w i n d s as s l o w as a cart c o m i n g late f r o m m a r k e t , o r t h e stir a fiddle c o u l d m a k e i n his r e l u c t a n t h e a r t .
II

T h a t day, w e w e r e like o n e o f his t r o u b l e d pairs, s p e e c h l e s s u n t i l h e s p o k e for t h e m , haunters of silence at n o o n in a d e e p lane that was sexual w i t h ferns a n d b u t t e r f l i e s , scared at o u r h u r t , throat-sick, heat-struck, driven into the damp-floored w o o d

210

w h e r e we m a d e an episode of ourselves, unforgettable, unmentionable, a n d b r o k e o u t again like c a t t l e t h r o u g h bushes, w e t and raised, only yards f r o m the h o u s e .
Ill

Everywhere being nowhere, w h o can p r o v e o n e place m o r e than another? W e c o m e back emptied, t o n o u r i s h a n d resist t h e w o r d s o f c o m i n g t o rest: birthplace, flagstone, roqfbeam, hearth, whitewash,

like u n s t a c k e d i r o n w e i g h t s afloat a m o n g galaxies. Still, w a s it t h i r t y y e a r s a g o I r e a d u n t i l first l i g h t for t h e first t i m e , t o finish The Return of the Native? T h e c o r n c r a k e i n t h e aftergrass v e r i f i e d himself, a n d I h e a r d roosters and dogs, the very same as if he had w r i t t e n t h e m .

from SWEENEY REDIVIVUS

IIII ( I I.RK.

I heard n e w w o r d s prayed at c o w s
in the b y t e , f o u n d Ins
N I I M I

o n i I n - i m i k .ind the hidden Still,

II

s m e l l e d f u m e s f r o m his c e n s e r i n t h e first s m o k e s o f m o r n i n g . N e x t thing he was m a k i n g a progress t h r o u g h g a p s , s t e p p i n g o u t sites, s i n k i n g his c r o z i e r d e e p in the fort-hearth. I f h e h a d s t u c k t o his o w n c r a m p - j a w e d abbesses a n d i n t o n e r s dibbling r o u n d the enclosure, his L a t i n a n d b l a t h e r o f l o v e , his p a r c h m e n t s a n d s c h e m i n g in letters s h i p p e d o v e r w a t e r but no, he overbore w i t h his u n c t i o n s a n d o r d e r s , he had to get in on the ground. H i s t o r y t h a t p l a n t e d its s t a n d a r d s o n his g a b l e s a n d spires ousted me to the marches of skulking and whingeing. Or did I desert? G i v e h i m his d u e , i n t h e e n d he o p e n e d my path to a k i n g d o m of such scope a n d n e u t e r allegiance m y e m p t i n e s s r e i g n s a t its w h i m .

FROM T H E FRONTIER OF WRITING T h e t i g h t n e s s a n d t h e nilness r o u n d t h a t s p a c e w h e n t h e car s t o p s i n t h e r o a d , t h e t r o o p s inspect its m a k e a n d n u m b e r a n d , a s o n e b e n d s Ins face

I !

t o w a r d s y o u r w i n d o w , y o u catch sight o f m o r e o n a hill b e y o n d , e y e i n g w i t h i n t e n t d o w n cradled guns that hold y o u u n d e r cover and e v e r y t h i n g is pure interrogation until a rifle m o t i o n s and y o u m o v e with g u a r d e d u n c o n c e r n e d acceleration a little e m p t i e r , a little s p e n t a s a l w a y s b y t h a t q u i v e r i n t h e self, subjugated, yes, and obedient. So y o u d r i v e on to the frontier of writing w h e r e i t h a p p e n s again. T h e guns o n tripods; t h e s e r g e a n t w i t h his o n - o f f m i k e r e p e a t i n g d a t a a b o u t y o u , w a i t i n g for t h e s q u a w k of clearance; t h e marksman training d o w n o u t o f t h e s u n u p o n y o u like a h a w k . A n d s u d d e n l y y o u ' r e t h r o u g h , arraigned yet freed, as if y o u ' d passed from b e h i n d a waterfall on the black current of a tarmac road past a r m o u r - p l a t e d v e h i c l e s , o u t b e t w e e n the posted soldiers flowing and receding like tree s h a d o w s i n t o t h e polished w i n d s c r e e n .

FROM THE C A N T O N OF EXPECTATION I We lived d e e p in a land of optative m o o d s , u n d e r high, b a n k e d clouds of resignation. A rustle of l o s s in t h e p h r a s e Not in our lifetime, the broken n e r v e w h e n we prayed w e r e c r e d i t a b l e , sufficient to t h e day. ( ) I K r . 1 vc.n w e g a t h e r e d i n a f i e l d
o l d.iin c p i . l i b u r n s a n d t e n t s w h e r e < l u l d i e n s a n g

Vouchsafe o r Deign,

21 I

songs they had learned by rote in the old language. An auctioneer w h o had fought in the b r o t h e r h o o d enumerated the humiliations w e a l w a y s t o o k for g r a n t e d , b u t n o t e v e n h e c o n s i d e r e d this, I t h i n k , a call to a c t i o n . I r o n - m o u t h e d l o u d s p e a k e r s s h o o k t h e air y e t n o b o d y felt b l a m e d . H e h a d c o n f i r m e d us. W h e n our rebel a n t h e m played the m e e t i n g shut w e t u r n e d for h o m e a n d t h e u s u a l h a r a s s m e n t by militiamen on overtime at roadblocks.
!!

A n d n e x t t h i n g , s u d d e n l y , this c h a n g e o f m o o d . Books open in the newly wired kitchens. Y o u n g h e a d s t h a t m i g h t h a v e d o z e d a life a w a y against t h e flanks o f m i l k i n g c o w s w e r e b u s y p a v i n g a n d p e n c i l l i n g t h e i r first c a u s e w a y s across t h e p r e s c r i b e d t e x t s . T h e p a v i n g s t o n e s of quadrangles came next and a grammar o f imperatives, t h e n e w age o f d e m a n d s . T h e y w o u l d b a n i s h t h e c o n d i t i o n a l for e v e r , this g e n e r a t i o n b o r n i m p e r v i o u s t o t h e t r i u m p h i n o u r cries o f d e prqfundis. O u r faith i n w i n n i n g b y e n d u r i n g m o s t they m a d e anathema, intelligences brightened and u n m a n n e r l y as crowbars.
HI

What looks the strongest has outlived its term. The future lies with what's affirmed from under. T h e s e things that corroborated us w h e n we dwelt u n d e r t h e aegis o f o u r s t e a l t h y p a t r o n , t h e g u a r d i a n a n g e l o f passivity, n o w sink a fang of m e n a c e in my s h o u l d e r . I repeat the w o r d 'stricken' to myself and stand bareheaded u n d e r the b a n k e d clouds e d g e d m o r e a n d m o r e w i t h brassy t h u n d e r l i g h t . I y e a r n for h a m m e r b l o w s o n c l i n k e r e d p l a n k s , the u n c o m p r o m i s e d report of driven thole-pins, to k n o w there is one a m o n g us w h o never swerved
I l

f r o m all his i n s t i n c t s t o l d h i m w a s r i g h t a c t i o n , w h o s t o o d his g r o u n d i n t h e i n d i c a t i v e , w h o s e b o a t w i l l lift w h e n t h e c l o u d b u r s t h a p p e n s .

WHEELS W I T H I N WHEELS I T h e first real g r i p I e v e r g o t o n t h i n g s W a s w h e n I l e a r n e d t h e art o f p e d a l l i n g (By h a n d ) a b i k e t u r n e d u p s i d e d o w n , a n d d r o v e Its b a c k w h e e l p r e t e r n a t u r a l l y fast. I loved the disappearance of the spokes, T h e w a y the space b e t w e e n the h u b a n d r i m H u m m e d with transparency. If you t h r e w A p o t a t o i n t o it, t h e h o o p e d air S p u n m u s h a n d d r i z z l e b a c k i n t o y o u r face; If y o u t o u c h e d it w i t h a straw, t h e straw frittered. S o m e t h i n g a b o u t the w a y those pedal treads W o r k e d v e r y p a l p a b l y a t first against y o u And then began to sweep your hand ahead I n t o a n e w m o m e n t u m - t h a t all e n t e r e d m e L i k e a n access o f free p o w e r , a s i f b e l i e f C a u g h t up and spun the objects of belief In an orbit c o t e r m i n o u s with longing. II B u t e n o u g h was n o t e n o u g h . W h o ever saw T h e limit i n the given a n y h o w ? In fields b e y o n d o u r house there was a well ( ' T h e w e l l ' w e c a l l e d it. I t w a s m o r e a h o l e W i t h w a t e r i n it, w i t h small h a w t h o r n t r e e s O n o n e side, a n d a m u d d y , d u n g y o o z e O n t h e o t h e r , all t r a m p e d t h r o u g h b y c a t t l e ) . I l o v e d that t o o . 1 l o v e d t h e t u r b i d s m e l l , T h e s u m p - l i f e o f t h e p l a c e l i k e o l d c h a i n oil. A n d there, next thing, I b r o u g h t my bicycle. I s t o o d its saddle a n d its h a n d l e b a r s
I n t o the soil b o t t o m , I t o u c h e d the t y r e s

T o t h e w a t e r ' s surface, t h e n t u r n e d t h e pedals U n t i l like a m i l l - w h e e l p o u r i n g at t h e treadles ( B u t h e r e r e v e r s e d a n d l a s h i n g a m a r e ' s tail) T h e world-refreshing and immersed back wheel S p u n lace a n d d i r t - s u d s t h e r e b e f o r e m y e y e s A n d s h o w e r e d m e i n m y o w n r e g e n e r a t e clays. F o r w e e k s I m a d e a n i m b u s o f o l d glit. T h e n the h u b j a m m e d , rims rusted, the chain snapped.
Ill

N o t h i n g r o s e t o t h e o c c a s i o n after t h a t U n t i l , in a circus ring, d r u m r o l l e d a n d spotlit, Cowgirls w h e e l e d in, each o n e immaculate A t t h e still c e n t r e o f a lariat. Perpetuum mobile. Sheer pirouette. T u m b l e r s . J o n g l e u r s . R i n g - a - r o s i e s . Stet!

from LIGHTENINGS VIII T h e a n n a l s say: w h e n t h e m o n k s o f C l o n m a c n o i s e W e r e all a t p r a y e r s i n s i d e t h e o r a t o r y A s h i p a p p e a r e d a b o v e t h e m i n t h e air. T h e anchor dragged along behind so deep I t h o o k e d itself i n t o t h e altar rails A n d t h e n , a s t h e b i g h u l l r o c k e d t o a standstill, A c r e w m a n shinned and grappled d o w n the rope A n d s t r u g g l e d t o r e l e a s e it. B u t i n v a i n . ' T h i s m a n c a n ' t b e a r o u r life h e r e a n d will d r o w n , ' T h e a b b o t said, ' u n l e s s w e h e l p h i m . ' S o T h e y d i d , t h e f r e e d s h i p sailed, a n d t h e m a n c l i m b e d bat O u t o f t h e m a r v e l l o u s a s h e h a d k n o w n it.

IX

A boat that did n o t rock or w o b b l e o n c e Sat i n l o n g grass o n e S u n d a y a f t e r n o o n In nineteen forty-one or two. T h e heat O u t o n L o u g h N e a g h and i n w h e r e cattle s t o o d Jostling and skittering near the hedge G r e w r e d o l e n t o f t h e t w e e d skirt a n d t w e e d s l e e v e I n u r s e d o n . I r e m e m b e r little t r e b l e T i m b e r - n o t e s their smart heels struck from planks, M e c r a d l e d i n a n e l b o w like a s e c r e t O p e n n o w as the eye of heaven was then A b o v e t h r e e sisters t a l k i n g , t a l k i n g s t e a d y In a b o a t t h e g r o u n d still falls a n d falls f r o m u n d e r .

KEEPING G O I N G for H. H.
1

T h e p i p e r c o m i n g f r o m far a w a y i s y o u W i t h a w h i t e w a s h b r u s h for a s p o r r a n W o b b l i n g r o u n d y o u , a kitchen chair Upside d o w n on your shoulder, your right arm Pretending to tuck the bag beneath your elbow, Y o u r pop-eyes and big cheeks nearly bursting W i t h laughter, but keeping up the drone Inside y o u r nose, b e t w e e n catches of breath. 2 T h e whitewash brush. An old blanched skirted thing O n t h e b a c k o f t h e b y r e d o o r , b i d i n g its t i m e U n t i l s p r i n g airs s p e l l e d l i m e i n a w o r k - b u c k e t A n d a potstick to m i x it in w i t h water. T h o s e smells b r o u g h t tears t o t h e e y e s , w e i n h a l e d A k i n d ol g r e e n y b u r n i n g a n d t h o u g h t <>l b r i m s t o n e .

B u t t h e slop o f t h e actual j o b O f b r u s h i n g walls, t h e w a t e r y g r e y B e i n g lashed on in b r o a d swatches, t h e n d r y i n g o u t W h i t e r a n d w h i t e r , all t h a t w o r k e d like m a g i c . W h e r e h a d w e c o m e f r o m , w h a t was this k i n g d o m W e k n e w w e ' d b e e n r e s t o r e d to? O u r s h a d o w s M o v e d o n t h e w a l l a n d a tar b o r d e r g l i t t e r e d T h e full l e n g t h o f t h e h o u s e , a b l a c k d i v i d e Like a freshly-opened, p u n g e n t , reeking trench.
3

Piss a t t h e g a b l e , t h e d e a d w i l l c o n g r e g a t e . B u t s e p a r a t e l y . T h e w o m e n after d a r k , H u n k e r i n g there a m o m e n t before bedtime, T h e o n l y t i m e t h e s o u l w a s let a l o n e . T h e o n l y t i m e t h a t face a n d b o d y c a l m e d In the eye of heaven. Buttermilk and urine, T h e pantry, t h e h o u s e d beasts, the listening b e d r o o m . W e w e r e all t o g e t h e r t h e r e i n a f o r e t i m e , I n a k n o w l e d g e t h a t m i g h t n o t translate b e y o n d T h o s e w i n d - h e a v e d m i d n i g h t s w e still c a n n o t b e s u r e H a p p e n e d o r n o t . I t s m e l l e d o f h i l l - f o r t clay A n d cattle d u n g . W h e n t h e t h o r n tree was cut d o w n Y o u b r o k e y o u r arm. I shared the dread W h e n a s t r a n g e b i r d p e r c h e d for days o n t h e b y r e r o o l
4

T h a t s c e n e , w i t h M a c b e t h helpless a n d d e s p e r a t e I n his n i g h t m a r e - w h e n h e m e e t s t h e hags again A n d sees t h e a p p a r i t i o n s i n t h e p o t I felt a t h o m e w i t h t h a t o n e all r i g h t . H e a r t h , S t e a m a n d u l u l a t i o n , t h e s m o k y hair C u r t a i n i n g a cheek. ' D o n ' t go near bad boys I n t h a t c o l l e g e y o u ' r e b o u n d for. D o y o u h e a r m e ? D o y o u hear m e speaking t o you? D o n ' t forget.' A n d t h e n the potstick q u i c k e n i n g the gruel. T h e steam c r o w n swirled, everything intimate A n d f e a r - s w a t h e d b r i g h t e n i n g for . 1 m o m e n t ,
T h e n g o i n g d u l l a n d fatal . m i l .iw.iy.

21H

G r e y m a t t e r like gruel f l e c k e d w i t h b l o o d In spatters on t h e w h i t e w a s h . A clean spot W h e r e his h e a d h a d b e e n , o t h e r stains s u b s u m e d I n t h e p a r c h e d w a l l h e l e a n t his b a c k a g a i n s t T h a t m o r n i n g just like any o t h e r m o r n i n g , P a r t - t i m e r e s e r v i s t , t o t i n g his l u n c h - b o x . A car c a m e s l o w d o w n Castle Street, m a d e t h e halt, C r o s s e d t h e D i a m o n d , s l o w e d again a n d s t o p p e d L e v e l w i t h h i m , a l t h o u g h i t w a s n o t his lift. A n d t h e n h e s a w a n o r d i n a r y face F o r w h a t i t w a s a n d a g u n i n his o w n face. H i s r i g h t l e g w a s h o o k e d b a c k , his sole a n d h e e l A g a i n s t t h e w a l l , his r i g h t k n e e p r o p p e d u p s t e a d y , S o h e n e v e r m o v e d , j u s t p u s h e d w i t h all his m i g h t A g a i n s t himself, t h e n fell past t h e t a r r e d s t r i p , F e e d i n g t h e g u t t e r w i t h his c o p i o u s b l o o d .

My dear brother, y o u have g o o d stamina. Y o u stay o n w h e r e i t h a p p e n s . Y o u r b i g t r a c t o r I'nils u p a t t h e D i a m o n d , y o u w a v e a t p e o p l e , Y o u s h o u t and laugh a b o v e t h e revs, y o u k e e p ()ld roads o p e n by driving on the n e w ones. Y o u called t h e pipers' sporrans w h i t e w a s h b r u s h e s And t h e n dressed up and m a r c h e d us t h r o u g h the kitchen. 1 tut y o u c a n n o t m a k e the d e a d walk or right w r o n g . 1 see y o u a t t h e e n d o f y o u r t e t h e r s o m e t i m e s , In the milking parlour, holding yourself up Met w e e n t w o c o w s u n t i l y o u r t u r n g o e s past, I
I K ' I I

c o m i n g to to t h e smell o f d u n g again

A n d w o n d e r i n g , is this all? As it w a s I n t h e b e g i n n i n g , i s n o w a n d shall b e ? Then r u b b i n g y o u r eyes a n d seeing o u r old b r u s h I lp on the byre door, and k e e p i n g going.

B u t t h e slop o f t h e actual j o b O f b r u s h i n g walls, t h e w a t e r y g r e y B e i n g lashed on in b r o a d swatches, t h e n drying o u t W h i t e r a n d w h i t e r , all t h a t w o r k e d l i k e m a g i c . W h e r e h a d w e c o m e f r o m , w h a t w a s this k i n g d o m W e k n e w w e ' d b e e n r e s t o r e d to? O u r s h a d o w s M o v e d o n t h e w a l l a n d a tar b o r d e r g l i t t e r e d T h e full l e n g t h o f t h e h o u s e , a b l a c k d i v i d e Like a freshly-opened, p u n g e n t , reeking trench. 3 Piss a t t h e g a b l e , t h e d e a d w i l l c o n g r e g a t e . B u t s e p a r a t e l y . T h e w o m e n after d a r k , H u n k e r i n g there a m o m e n t before bedtime, T h e o n l y t i m e the soul was let alone. T h e o n l y t i m e t h a t face a n d b o d y c a l m e d In the eye of heaven. Buttermilk and urine, T h e pantry, t h e h o u s e d beasts, the listening b e d r o o m . W e w e r e all t o g e t h e r t h e r e i n a f o r e t i m e , In a k n o w l e d g e that m i g h t n o t translate b e y o n d T h o s e w i n d - h e a v e d m i d n i g h t s w e still c a n n o t b e s u r e H a p p e n e d o r n o t . I t s m e l l e d o f h i l l - f o r t clay A n d cattle d u n g . W h e n t h e t h o r n tree was c u t d o w n Y o u b r o k e y o u r arm. I shared the dread W h e n a s t r a n g e b i r d p e r c h e d for days o n t h e b y r e roof.

T h a t scene, w i t h M a c b e t h helpless a n d desperate I n his n i g h t m a r e - w h e n h e m e e t s t h e h a g s again A n d sees t h e a p p a r i t i o n s i n t h e p o t I felt a t h o m e w i t h t h a t o n e all r i g h t . H e a r t h , S t e a m a n d ululation, t h e s m o k y hair Curtaining a cheek. ' D o n ' t go near bad boys I n t h a t c o l l e g e y o u ' r e b o u n d for. D o y o u h e a r m e ? D o y o u hear m e speaking t o you? D o n ' t forget.' A n d then the potstick quickening the gruel, T h e steam c r o w n swirled, everything intimate A n d f e a r - s w a t h e d b r i g h t e n i n g for a m o m e n t . T h e n g o i n g dull a n d fatal a n d a w a y . 21H

5 G r e y m a t t e r like gruel flecked w i t h b l o o d In spatters on t h e w h i t e w a s h . A clean spot W h e r e his h e a d h a d b e e n , o t h e r stains s u b s u m e d I n t h e p a r c h e d w a l l h e l e a n t his b a c k against T h a t m o r n i n g j u s t like a n y o t h e r m o r n i n g , P a r t - t i m e reservist, t o t i n g his l u n c h - b o x . A car c a m e s l o w d o w n C a s t l e S t r e e t , m a d e t h e h a l t , Crossed t h e D i a m o n d , s l o w e d again a n d s t o p p e d L e v e l w i t h h i m , a l t h o u g h i t w a s n o t his lift. A n d t h e n h e s a w a n o r d i n a r y face F o r w h a t i t w a s a n d a g u n i n his o w n face. H i s r i g h t l e g w a s h o o k e d b a c k , his sole a n d h e e l A g a i n s t t h e w a l l , his r i g h t k n e e p r o p p e d u p s t e a d y , S o h e n e v e r m o v e d , j u s t p u s h e d w i t h all his m i g h t A g a i n s t himself, t h e n fell past t h e t a r r e d s t r i p , F e e d i n g t h e g u t t e r w i t h his c o p i o u s b l o o d . 6 M y dear brother, y o u have g o o d stamina. Y o u stay o n w h e r e i t h a p p e n s . Y o u r b i g t r a c t o r Pulls u p a t t h e D i a m o n d , y o u w a v e a t p e o p l e , Y o u shout and laugh above t h e revs, y o u k e e p O l d roads o p e n by driving on the n e w ones. Y o u called the pipers' sporrans w h i t e w a s h brushes A n d t h e n dressed up and m a r c h e d us t h r o u g h the k i t c h e n . But you cannot make the dead walk or right wrong. I see y o u a t t h e e n d o f y o u r t e t h e r s o m e t i m e s , In the milking parlour, holding yourself up B e t w e e n t w o c o w s u n t i l y o u r t u r n g o e s past, T h e n c o m i n g t o t o t h e smell o f d u n g again A n d w o n d e r i n g , i s this all? A s i t w a s I n t h e b e g i n n i n g , i s n o w a n d shall b e ? T h e n r u b b i n g y o u r eyes a n d seeing o u r old b r u s h Up on the byre door, and keeping going.

M I C H A E L

L O N G L E Y

Born Belfast, of English parents, 1939. Educated at the Royal Belfast Academical Institution and Trinity College D u b l i n , w h e r e he studied classics. Secondary school teacher in Dublin, L o n d o n and Belfast, 1 9 6 3 - 7 0 . W o r k e d for m a n y years with the Arts C o u n c i l of N o r t h e r n Ireland before retiring from post of C o m b i n e d Arts Director in 1991. Longley has edited Causeway: The Arts in Ulster (1971) and an anthology of N o r t h e r n Irish children's poetry, Over the Moon and Under the Stars (1971), as well as selections of the poetry of Louis M a c N e i c e and W . R . Rodgers and a v o l u m e of reminiscences of the painter Paul H e n r y . Tuppenny Stung: Autobiographical Chapters, appeared in 1994. Longley's formalism acts as a bulwark against a chaos his p o e m s evoke with varying degrees of grotesquery, exuberance and terror. H o m e serves as his characteristic trope for a h a r d - w o n , fragile civility - a choice of figure w h i c h may reflect an Ulsterman's problematic sense ol belonging. W r y equivocation about domesticity in early pieces like 'Caravan' paves the way for the subsequent poetry's concern with despoliations of household order by political violence. T h e r e is a despairing irony in Longley's recognition of the domesticating imperative behind Odysseus's slaughter of the suitors and faithless housemaids in ' T h e Butchers' (a title which glancingly acknowledges Belfast's most notorious sectarian killers, the Shankill Butchers). Many "I Longley's poems, like M a c N e i c e ' s , are set in the west of Ireland, particularly in M a y o , w h e r e he has a second h o m e . (His reading ol Ireland t h r o u g h Scapa Flow in 'Ghost T o w n ' recalls the earlier poet's use of Icelandic and Scottish landscapes.) 'River & Fountain', written i<> mark the quatercentenery of Trinity College, embodies an ingcniousK personal, typically delicate response to the demands of public poetry.

IN MEMORIAM M y f a t h e r , let n o similes eclipse W h e r e crosses l i k e s o m e forest simplified S i n k r o o t s i n t o m y m i n d ; t h e s l o w sands O f y o u r h i s t o r y d e l a y till t h r o u g h y o u . e y e s

I read y o u like a b o o k . Before y o u died, R e - e n l i s t i n g w i t h all t h e b r o k e n s o l d i e r s Y o u b e n t b e n e a t h y o u r rucksack, near collapse, In anecdote rehearsed and summarised T h e s e words I write in m e m o r y . Let yours A n d o t h e r heartbreaks play i n t o m y hands. N o w I see i n c l o s e - u p , i n m y m i n d ' s e y e , T h e c r a c k e d a n d s p l i n t e r e d d e a d for p i t y ' s s a k e Each dismal e v e n i n g predecease the sun, Y o u , l o o k i n g d e a t h a n d n i g h t m a r e i n t h e face W i t h y o u r kilt, h a r m o n i c a a n d g u n , G r o w o l d e r i n a flash, b u t n o n e t h e w i s e r ( W h o , f o l l o w i n g t h e w r o n g q u e u e a t T h e Palac H a v e j o i n e d the L o n d o n Scottish b y mistake), Y o u r n i n e t e e n years u n c e r t a i n i f and w h y B e l g i u m p u t t h e k i b o s h o n t h e Kaiser. B e t w e e n the corpses and the soup canteens Y o u s w o o n e d a w a y , w a t c h i n g y o u r f u t u r e spill. B u t , as it was, y o u r p r o p e r funeral u r n H a d mercifully smashed to smithereens, T o s h r a p n e l s h a r d s t h a t sliced y o u r t e s t i c l e . T h a t instant I, y o u r m o s t unlikely son, I n N o M a n ' s L a n d w a s s u r e l y left for d e a d , B l o t t e d o u t f r o m y o u r far h o r i z o n . As y o u r voice n o w is l o c k e d inside my head, I yet was held secure, waiting my turn. Finally, that lousy w a r was over. Stranded in France and in need of proof Y o u h u n t e d d o w n experimental lovers, P e r s u a d i n g c h o r u s girls a n d c o u n t e s s e s : T h i s , f a t h e r , t h e last c o n f i d e n c e y o u s p o k e . In my twentieth year y o u r old w o u n d s w o k e As cancer. Lodging u n d e r the same roof D e a t h was a visitor w h o h u n g a b o u t , S t r e w i n g t h e h o u s e w i t h pills a n d b a n d a g e s , Till h e c h o s e t o p u t y o u r spirit o u t .

T h o u g h they overslept the sequence of events W h i c h ended with the ambulance outside, Y o u l i n g e r i n g i n t h e hall, y o u r b o w e l s o n fire, T e a r s i n y o u r e y e s , a n d all y o u r m e d a l s s p e n t , I s u m m o n girls w h o p a c k e d a t last a n d w e n t U n d e r g r o u n d w i t h y o u . T h e i r souls a g a i n o n hii N o w t h o s e lost w i v e s a s r e - c r e a t e d b r i d e s T a k e shape before m e , materialise. On the verge of light and happy legend T h e y lift t h e i r skirts like b l i n d s across y o u r e y e s .

CARAVAN A rickety c h i m n e y suggests T h e diminutive stove, Children perhaps, the pots A n d pans adding up to love So m u c h concentrated under T h e l o w roof, t h e w i n d o w s S h u t t e r e d against s n o w a n d w i n d . T h a t y o u w o u l d be magnified (If y o u w e r e t h e r e ) b y t h e d a r k , W e a r i n g it like an a p r o n A n d revolving in your hands A s w e a t h e r i n a glass d o m e , T h e blizzard, the day b e y o n d A n d - t i n y , b a r e l y in f o c u s Me disappearing out of v i e w On probably the only horse, C a n t e r i n g off t o t h e r i g h t T o collect the w e e k ' s groceries, O r t o b e g o n e for g o o d H a v i n g d r a w n across m y e y e s

L i k e a c u r t a i n all t h a t l i g h t A n d the s n o w , m y history Stiffening w i t h the tea t o w e l s H u n g outside the d o o r to dry.

WOUNDS H e r e are t w o p i c t u r e s f r o m m y f a t h e r ' s h e a d I have k e p t t h e m like secrets until n o w : First, t h e U l s t e r D i v i s i o n a t t h e S o m m e Going over the top with 'Fuck the Pope!' ' N o Surrender!': a b o y about to die, S c r e a m i n g ' G i v e ' e m o n e for t h e S h a n k i l l ! ' ' W i l d e r than G u r k h a s ' w e r e m y father's w o r d s Of admiration and bewilderment. N e x t comes the London-Scottish padre R e s e t t l i n g kilts w i t h his s w a g g e r - s t i c k , W i t h a stylish b a c k h a n d a n d a p r a y e r . O v e r a landscape of dead buttocks M y f a t h e r f o l l o w e d h i m for fifty y e a r s . At last, a b e l a t e d c a s u a l t y , He said - l e a d t r a c e s flaring till t h e y h u r t ' I a m d y i n g for K i n g a n d C o u n t r y , s l o w l y . ' I t o u c h e d his h a n d , his t h i n h e a d I t o u c h e d . N o w , w i t h military h o n o u r s of a kind, W i t h his b a d g e s , his m e d a l s l i k e r a i n b o w s , His spinning compass, I bury beside h i m T h r e e t e e n a g e s o l d i e r s , bellies full o f B u l l e t s a n d Irish b e e r , t h e i r flies u n d o n e . A packet of W o o d b i n e s I t h r o w in, A lucifer, t h e S a c r e d H e a r t o f J e s u s Paralysed as h e a v y guns p u t o u t T h e n i g h t - l i g h t i n a n u r s e r y for e v e r ; Also a b u s - c o n d u c t o r ' s u n i f o r m I It- c o l l a p s e d b e s i d e his c a r p e t - s l i p p e r s W i t h o u t a m u r m u r , shot t h r o u g h the head
By a shivering b o y w h o w a n d e r e d in B e f o r e tlicy < o u l d t u r n t h e t e l e v i s i o n d o w n

223

O r tidy away t h e s u p p e r dishes. To the children, to a bewildered wife, I t h i n k ' S o r r y M i s s u s ' w a s w h a t h e said.

GHOST T O W N I h a v e l o c a t e d it, m y g h o s t t o w n A place of i n t e r m i n a b l e afternoons, Sad c o t t a g e s , s c y t h e s r u s t i n g i n t h e t h a t c h ; Of so m a n y hesitant surrenders to E n f o l d i n g b o g , t h e scuts o f b o g c o t t o n . T h e few residents include o n e h e r m i t Persisting w i t h a goat and t w o kettles A m o n g the b r a c k e n , a n e r v o u s spinster I n c h a r g e o f t h e p o s t office, a l i g h t h o u s e - k e e p ^ W h o e m e r g e s t o c o l l e c t his g r o c e r i e s . S i n c e n o o n e has g o t a r o u n d t o i t y e t I shall r e s t o r e t h e sign w h i c h r e a d s CINEMA, R e s c u e f r o m t h e v e r g e o f invisibility T h e f a d e d stills o f t h e last silent f e a t u r e I shall b e c o m e t h e local e c c e n t r i c : A l r e a d y I h a v e r e t i r e d t h e r e t o fill S e v e r a l gaps i n m y e d u c a t i o n T h e weather's ways, a handful of neglected P e n t a t o n i c m e l o d i e s a n d , after a w h i l e , D i a l e c t w o r d s for t h e p a r t s o f t h e b o d y . I n d e e d , w i t h s o m u c h o n m y hands, family A n d friends a r e d e f i n i t e l y n o t w e l c o m e Although by the time I am accepted there ( A r e p u t a t i o n a n d m y o w n half-acre) I shall h a v e w r i t t e n a n o t h e r l e t t e r h o m e .

MAN LYING ON A WALL Homage to L.S. Lowry Y o u c o u l d d r a w a straight line from t h e heels, T h r o u g h calves, b u t t o c k s and shoulderblades To the back of the head: pressure points T h a t b e a r t h e e n o r m o u s w e i g h t o f t h e sky. Should you take away the supporting structure T h e result w o u l d b e a m i r a c l e o r A n e x t r e m e l y clever c o n j u r i n g trick. A s i t is, t h e m a n l y i n g o n t h e w a l l Is w e a r i n g the serious expression O f p o p e s a n d k i n g s i n t h e i r final s l u m b e r , H i s d e p o r t m e n t n o t dissimilar t o T h e i r stiff, r e l u c t a n t exits f r o m this w o r l d A b o v e the shoulders of the multitude. I t i s difficult t o j u d g e w h e t h e r o r n o t He is sleeping or m e r e l y disinclined T o a r r i v e p u n c t u a l l y a t t h e office O r t o r e t u r n h o m e i n t i m e for his tea. H e i s w e a r i n g a p i n s t r i p e suit, b l a c k s h o e s A n d a b o w l e r hat: on the p a v e m e n t B e l o w h i m , l i k e a relic o r s o m e t h i n g H e i s t r y i n g t o f o r g e t , his briefcase W i t h e v e r y b o d y ' s initials o n it.

WREATHS
T H E CIVIL SERVANT

H e w a s p r e p a r i n g a n U l s t e r fry for breakfast W h e n s o m e o n e walked into the kitchen and shot h i m A b u l l e t e n t e r e d his m o u t h a n d p i e r c e d his s k u l l , T h e b o o k s h e h a d r e a d , t h e m u s i c h e c o u l d play. I le l a y in his d r e s s i n g g o w n a n d p y j a m a s W h i l e t h e y d u s t e d t h e d r e s s e r for f i n g e r p r i n t s A n d t h e n shuffled b a c k w a r d s across t h e g a r d e n
W i t h notebooks, i .unci.is a n d measuring tapes

T h e y r o l l e d h i m u p l i k e a r e d c a r p e t a n d left O n l y a bullet hole in the cutlery drawer; L a t e r his w i d o w t o o k a h a m m e r a n d c h i s e l A n d r e m o v e d t h e b l a c k k e y s f r o m his p i a n o .

THE

GREENGROCER

He ran a g o o d s h o p , and he died Serving even the death-dealers W h o f o u n d h i m b u s y a s usual B e h i n d the counter, organised W i t h h o l l y w r e a t h s for C h r i s t m a s , Fir t r e e s o n t h e p a v e m e n t o u t s i d e . Astrologers or three wise m e n W h o m a y shortly b e setting o u t F o r a small h o u s e u p t h e S h a n k i l l O r t h e Falls, s h o u l d p a u s e o n t h e i r w a y T o b u y gifts a t J i m G i b s o n ' s s h o p , Dates and chestnuts and tangerines.

THE LINEN WORKERS

Christ's teeth ascended with h i m into heaven: T h r o u g h a c a v i t y i n o n e o f his m o l a r s T h e w i n d w h i s t l e s : h e i s f a s t e n e d for e v e r B y his e x p o s e d c a n i n e s t o a w i n t r y sky. I am blinded by the blaze of that smile A n d b y t h e m e m o r y o f m y f a t h e r ' s false t e e t h B r i m m i n g in their tumbler: they w o r e bubbles A n d , o u t s i d e o f his b o d y , a d e a d l y g r i n . W h e n they massacred the ten linen w o r k e r s T h e r e fell o n t h e r o a d b e s i d e t h e m s p e c t a c l e s , W a l l e t s , small c h a n g e , a n d a set o f d e n t u r e s : B l o o d , food particles, t h e bread, the w i n e . B e f o r e I c a n b u r y m y f a t h e r o n c e again I m u s t polish the spectacles, balance t h e m U p o n his n o s e , fill his p o c k e t s w i t h m o n e y A n d i n t o Ins d e a d m o u t h slip the- set ol t e e t h .

from MAYO M O N O L O G U E S

SELF-HEAL

I w a n t e d to teach h i m the names of flowers, Self-heal a n d c e n t a u r y ; o n t h e l o n g acre W h e r e cattle n e v e r graze, b o g a s p h o d e l . C o u l d I love s o m e o n e so g o n e in the head A n d , a s t h e y say, w a s I l e a d i n g h i m o n ? H e ' d slept i n t h e c o t u n t i l h e w a s t w e l v e B e c a u s e o f his b a b y i s h w a y s , I s u p p o s e , O r t h e lack o f a b e d : h a d n ' t his f a t h e r G a m b l e d a w a y all b u t r u s h y p a s t u r e ? H i s skull s e e m e d t o b e h a m m e r e d l i k e a w e d g e I n t o his s h o u l d e r s , a n d his b a c k w a s h u n c h e d , W h i c h g a v e h i m a n a l m o s t s c h o l a r l y air. But he couldn't r e m e m b e r the things I taught: E a c h n a m e w o u l d h o v e r a b o v e its f l o w e r Like a butterfly u n a b l e to alight. T h a t day I pulled a c u c k o o - p i n t apart T o release t h e g i d d y i n s e c t s f r o m t h e i r cell. G e n t l y h e s l i p p e d his h a n d b e t w e e n m y t h i g h s . I w a s n ' t f r i g h t e n e d ; a n d still I d o n ' t k n o w w h y , B u t I ran f r o m h i m i n tears t o tell t h e m . I h e a r d h o w e v e r y d a y for o n e w h o l e w e e k He was flogged with a blackthorn, then tethered I n t h e hayfield. I m i g h t h a v e b e e n t h e c o w W h o s e tail h e w o u l d l a t e r d o c k w i t h s h e a r s , A n d he the ram tangled in barbed wire T h a t h e s t o n e d t o d e a t h w h e n t h e y set h i m free.

T H E LINEN INDUSTRY P u l l i n g u p f l a x after t h e b l u e f l o w e r s h a v e fallen A n d laying o u r handfuls in the peaty w a t e r T o r o t t h o s e grasses t o t h e b o n e , o r b u i l d i n g s t o o k s T h a t recall t h e skirts o f a n invisible d a n c e r , W e b e c o m e a part o l t h e l i n e n i n d u s t r y A n d follow it-> p r o c e s s e s n> ili<- g r u b b y t o w n 227

W h e r e fields a r e c o m p a c t e d i n t o w i n d o w - b o x e s A n d t h e r e i s little r o o m a m o n g t h e b i g m a c h i n e s . B u t e v e n i n o u r attic u n d e r t h e s k y l i g h t We make love on a bleach green, the w h o l e m e a d o w D r a p e d w i t h material turning white in the sun A s t h o u g h s n o w reluctant t o m e l t w e r e o u r attire. W h a t ' s p a s s i o n b u t a b a t t e r i n g o f s t u b b o r n stalks, T h e n a g e n t l e c o m b i n g o u t o f fibres l i k e h a i r A n d a w e a v i n g of these into christening robes, I n t o g a r m e n t s for a m a r r i a g e o r funeral? S i n c e it's l i k e a b e r e a v e m e n t o n c e t h e l a b o u r ' s d o n e T o find o u r s e l v e s last w o r k e r s i n a d y i n g t r a d e , L e t flax b e o u r m a t c h m a k e r , o u r u n d e r t a k e r , T h e p r o v i d e r o f s h e e t s for w h a t e v e r t h e b e d A n d b e shy o f y o u r breasts i n the p r e s e n c e o f death, Say t h a t y o u l o o k m o r e b e a u t i f u l i n l i n e n W e a r i n g white petticoats, the b o w on y o u r bodice A butterfly attending the e m b r o i d e r e d flowers.

BETWEEN HOVERS in memory of Joe O'Toole A n d n o t e v e n w h e n w e ran over the badger D i d h e tell m e h e h a d c a n c e r , J o e O ' T o o l e W h o was psychic about carburettor and clutch A n d k n e w a folk c u r e for t h e s t a r t e r - e n g i n e . B a c k i n g i n t o t h e dark we floodlit each hair L i k e a f i l a m e n t o f l i g h t o u r lights h a d p u t o u t Somewhere between Kinnadoohy and Thallabaun. I dragged it by t w o gritty paws into the ditch. J o e spotted a ruby w h e r e the canines t o u c h e d . H i s w a y o f s e e i n g m e safely across t h e d u a c h W a s t o l e a v e his p o r c h l i g h t b u r n i n g , its s p a r k l e S h i f t i n g f r o m w i d g e o n t o teal o n C o r r a g a u n L a k e . I missed liis funeral, ( . l o s e to t h e s t o n y r o a d s

22

H e lies i n K i l l e e n C h u r c h y a r d o v e r t h e hill. This m o r n i n g o n the burial m o u n d a t T e m p l e d o o m o r e Encircled by a spring tide and taking in Cloonaghmanagh and Claggan and Carrigskeewaun, T h e townlands he'd wandered tending cows and sheep, I w a t c h e d a d y i n g o t t e r gaze right t h r o u g h me A t t h e islands i n C l e w B a y , a s t h o u g h i t w e r e o n l y B e t w e e n h o v e r s a n d n o t t o o far f r o m t h e h o l t .

H O M E R I C POEMS LAERTES W h e n h e found Laertes alone o n the tidy terrace, h o e i n g A r o u n d a v i n e , d i s r e p u t a b l e i n his g a r d e n i n g d u d s , P a t c h e d a n d g r u b b y , l e a t h e r gaiters p r o t e c t i n g his shins A g a i n s t b r a m b l e s , g l o v e s a s w e l l , a n d , t o c a p i t all, S u r e sign o f his d e e p d e p r e s s i o n , a g o a t s k i n d u n c h e r , O d y s s e u s s o b b e d i n t h e s h a d e o f a p e a r - t r e e for his f a t h e r S o o l d a n d p a t h e t i c t h a t all h e w a n t e d t h e n a n d t h e r e W a s t o kiss h i m a n d h u g h i m a n d b l u r t o u t t h e w h o l e s t o r y , B u t the w h o l e story is o n e catalogue and t h e n another, S o h e w a i t e d for i m a g e s f r o m t h a t f o r m a l g a r d e n , E v i d e n c e o f a c h i l d h o o d s p e n t t r a i p s i n g after his f a t h e r A n d a s k i n g for e v e r y t h i n g h e s a w , t h e t h i r t e e n p e a r - t r e e s , T e n a p p l e - t r e e s , f o r t y f i g - t r e e s , t h e fifty r o w s o f v i n e s R i p e n i n g a t d i f f e r e n t t i m e s for a c o n t i n u o u s s u p p l y , U n t i l L a e r t e s r e c o g n i s e d his s o n a n d , w e a k a t t h e k n e e s , D i z z y , f l u n g his a r m s a r o u n d t h e n e c k o f g r e a t O d y s s e u s W h o d r e w t h e o l d m a n f a i n t i n g t o his b r e a s t a n d h e l d h i m t h e r e A n d c r a d l e d l i k e d r i f t w o o d t h e b o n e s o f his d w i n d l i n g f a t h e r . ARGOS T h e r e w e r e o t h e r separations, and so m a n y of t h e m T h a t A r g o s t h e d o g w h o w a i t e d t w e n t y y e a r s for O d y s s e u s H a s g o n e o n w a i t i n g , still n e g l e c t e d o n t h e m a n u r e - h e a p A t o u r front d o o r , f l e a - r i d d e n , m o r e d e a d t h a n alive W h o chased wild g o a t s o n c e , and r o e - d e e r ; t h e favourite, A real t h o r o u g h b r e d , a m a r v e l at pi< k i n g up t h e s c e n t ,
>

W h o e v e n n o w i s w a g g i n g his tail a n d d r o o p i n g his ears A n d struggling to get nearer to the voice he recognises A n d d y i n g i n t h e a t t e m p t ; u n t i l like O d y s s e u s W e w e e p for A r g o s t h e d o g , a n d for all t h o s e o t h e r d o g s , For the r o u n d i n g - u p of hamsters, the panic of white mice A n d t h e d e p o r t a t i o n o f o n e c a n a r y called P e p i c e k .

THE

BUTCHERS

W h e n h e h a d m a d e s u r e t h e r e w e r e n o s u r v i v o r s i n his h o u s e A n d t h a t all t h e s u i t o r s w e r e d e a d , h e a p e d i n b l o o d a n d d u s t Like fish that fishermen w i t h f i n e - m e s h e d nets have hauled U p g a s p i n g for salt w a t e r , e v a p o r a t i n g i n t h e s u n s h i n e , O d y s s e u s , s p a t t e r e d w i t h m u c k a n d like a l i o n d r i p p i n g b l o o d F r o m his c h e s t a n d c h e e k s after d e v o u r i n g a f a r m e r ' s b u l l o c k , O r d e r e d t h e disloyal h o u s e m a i d s t o s p o n g e d o w n t h e a r m c h a i r s A n d tables, w h i l e T e l e m a c h o s , t h e o x h e r d a n d t h e s w i n e h e r d Scraped t h e floor w i t h shovels, and t h e n b e t w e e n the p o r t i c o And the roundhouse stretched a hawser and hanged the w o m e n S o n o n e t o u c h e d t h e g r o u n d w i t h h e r t o e s , like l o n g - w i n g e d thrushes O r d o v e s t r a p p e d i n a m i s t - n e t across t h e t h i c k e t w h e r e t h e y roost, T h e i r h e a d s b o b b i n g i n a r o w , t h e i r feet t w i t c h i n g b u t n o t for long, A n d w h e n they had dragged Melanthios's corpse into the haggard A n d c u t off his n o s e a n d ears a n d c o c k a n d balls, a d o g ' s d i n n e r , O d y s s e u s , s e e i n g t h e n e e d for w h i t e w a s h a n d d i s i n f e c t a n t , Fumigated the house and the outhouses, so that H e r m e s Like a clergyman might w a v e the supernatural baton W i t h w h i c h he resurrects or hypnotises those he chooses, A n d w a k e n a n d r o u n d u p t h e s u i t o r s ' souls, a n d t h e h o u s e m a i d s ' , L i k e bats g i b b e r i n g i n t h e n o o k s o f t h e i r m y s t e r i o u s c a v e W h e n o u t o f t h e clusters t h a t d a n g l e f r o m t h e r o c k y c e i l i n g O n e o f t h e m d r o p s a n d s q u e a k s , s o t h e i r souls w e r e b a t - s q u e a k s A s t h e y f l i t t e r e d after H e r m e s , t h e i r d e l i v e r e r , w h o l e d t h e m A l o n g t h e c l a m m y s h e u g h s , t h e n past t h e o c e a n i c s t r e a m s A n d the w h i t e rock, the sun's gatepost in that d r e a m y region. U n t i l t h e y c a m e to a b o g - m e a d o w full of b o g - a s p h o d e l s W h e r e ( h e r e s i d e n t s are g h o s t s o r i m a g e s o f t h e c h a d .

2 K)

PHEMIOS & MEDON

Still l o o k i n g for a s c o o t - h o l e , P h e n i i o s t h e p o e t I n s w i t h e r s , f i d d l i n g w i t h his h a r p , j u k e s t o t h e h a t c h , Lays t h e b r u c k l e y o k e b e t w e e n p o r r i n g e r a n d a r m c h a i r , M a k e s a r a m - s t a m for O d y s s e u s , g r a m m e l s his k n e e s , T h e n b a n n i e s a n d b a m s w i this h i g h f a l u t i n b l e t h e r : ' I ask for p i t y a n d r e s p e c t . H o w c o u l d y o u c o n d e m n A p o e t w h o w r i t e s for his p e o p l e a n d P a r n a s s u s , A u t o d i d a c t , his r e p e r t o i r e g o d - g i v e n ? I b e g y o u N o t t o b e p r e c i p i t a t e a n d c u t off m y h e a d . S p a r e m e A n d I'll i m m o r t a l i s e y o u i n a n o d e . T e l e m a c h o s Y o u r o w n dear son will v o u c h that I was no p a r t y - h a c k A t the suitors' dinner-parties. O v e r w h e l m e d and o u t N u m b e r e d , I g a v e p o e t r y r e a d i n g s against m y w i l l . ' I g u l d e r t o m e da: ' D i n n a e g u t h i m w i y e r g u l l y , H e ' s only a harmless crayter. A n d h o w ' s a b o u t M e d o n T h e toast-master w h o s e a s h y - p e t I was? D i d y e d i n g h i m W h e n the o x h e r d and the swineherd s t o r m e d the steading T h o n oul gabble-blooter's a canny h u e r a n d hears me F r o m his f o x ' s - s l u m b e r i n c o w - h i d e s u n d e r a c h a i r O u t h e spalters, flaffing his h a n d s , b l i r t i n g t o m y k n e e s : ' H e r e I a m , d e a r b o y ! P u t i n a w o r d for m e b e f o r e Y o u r h o t - b l o o d e d pater slaughters me as o n e of t h e m T h e suitors I m e a n , bread-snappers, belly-bachelors.' L o n g - h e a d e d O d y s s e u s s m i l e s a t h i m a n d says: ' W h e e s h t ! Y o u m a y t h a n k T e l e m a c h o s for this c h a n c e t o w i s e u p A n d pass o n t h e m e s s a g e o f o u l d a c e n c y . G o o u t A n d sit i n t h e h a g g a r d a w a y f r o m this m a s s a c r e , Y o u and the well-spoken poet, while I redd the house.' T h e y h o o k i t a n d h u n k e r f o r n e n s t t h e altar o f Z e u s , A f e a r d a n d s k e l l y - e y e d , k e e k i n g e v e r y w h e r e for d e a t h .

RIVER & F O U N T A I N

I .1111 w.liking b a c k w a r d s into the future like a G r e e k . I h a v e n o t h i n g to s a y . T h e r e is n o t h i n g I w o u l d describe

MI

I t w a s a l w a y s t h u s : a s i f s n o w has fallen o n F r o n t Square, and, feeling the d o w n y silence of t h e snowflakes T h a t cover cobbles and each other, w h i t e erasing w h i t e , I read s h a d o w and snow-drift u n d e r the C a m p a n i l e .
II

' I t fits o n t o t h e b a c k o f a p o s t a g e s t a m p , ' R o b e r t said As he scribbled out in tiny symbols the equation, H i s s i l h o u e t t e a f r o s t - f l o w e r o n t h e w i n d o w o f m y last Y e a r , his p a g e t h e sky b e t w e e n c h i m n e y - s t a c k s , his h e a d A n d m y h e a d a t t h e c i t y ' s c e n t r e a c h i n g for g i d d y L i m i t s , m a t h e m a t i c s , p o e t r y , s q u e a k y n i b s a t all h o u r s .
Ill

T o p o f t h e staircase, N u m b e r S i x t e e n i n B o t a n y B a y , S l u m - d w e l l e r s , w e survived gas-rings that p o p p e d , slopBuckets in the b e d r o o m s , changeable 'wives', and toasted D o u g h y doorsteps, F r e s h m e n turning into Sophisters I n f r o n t o f t h e h i g g l e d y flames: o u r stilllife, crusts A n d b u t t e r y b o o k s , the half-empty m a r m a l a d e jar. IV M y D a n s e t t e r e c o r d p l a y e r b o t t l e d u p like g e n i e s Sibelius, S h o s t a k o v i c h , B r u c k n e r , dusty sleeves A c c u m u l a t i n g next to Liddel and Scott's Greek-English Lexicon v o i c e s t h e fluffy n e e d l e set a l m o s t free. I was the culture vulture from Ulster, Vincent's j o k e W h o h e a r d Tlie Rite of Spring a n d c o n t e m p l a t e d s u i c i d e . V A d a m w a s first t o r e a d t h e m a r o o n - c o v e r e d n o t e b o o k s I filled w i t h i n n o c e n t o u t p o u r i n g s , A d a m t h e s c h o l a r W h o s e s t a m m e r c o u l d s t o p h i m c h r i s t e n i n g this a n d t h a t , W h o s e E d e n w a s a n n o t a t i o n a n d v o c a b u l a r y lists I n a p r e c i s e classicist's h a n d , t h e l o v e o f w o r d s a s w o r d s . M y first a n d b e s t r e v i e w w a s A d a m ' s ' I like t h e s e - I - I - '

232

VI

' C o l l e g e p o e t ? Village idiot y o u m e a n ! ' ( V i n c e n t again). I n n e i t h e r p r o f e s s i o n c o u l d I settle c o m f o r t a b l y O n c e D e r e k arrived reciting R i m b a u d , giving names T o the constellations over the E x a m i n a t i o n Hall. 'Are you Longley? C a n I b o r r o w y o u r typewriter? Soon?' H i s w a s t h e first s n o w p a r t y I a t t e n d e d . I felt t h e c o l d . VII W e w e r e from the N o r t h , hitch-hikers o n the N e w r y Road, Faces that vanished from a h u n d r e d driving-mirrors D o w n that w a r r e n of reflections - O ' N e i l l ' s Bar, Nesbitt's A n d through Front Gate to C o n n e m a r a and Inishere, T h e raw experience o f m a r k e t t o w n s and clachans, t h e n B a c k t o R o o m s , village o f m i n d s , p o e t r y ' s t o w n l a n d . VIII T h o u g h C o l l e g e S q u a r e i n Belfast a n d t h e L i n e n H a l l H a d been our patch, n o b o d y m e n t i o n e d William Drennan. In D u b l i n w h a t dreams of liberty, the Index, the Ban: Etonians on C o m m o n s cut o u r accents w i t h a knife. W h e n B r e n d a n from Ballylongford defied t h e B i s h o p , w e Flapped o u r wings t o g e t h e r and w e r e m e l t e d in the sun. IX A b a t h - h o u s e l o t u s - e a t e r - fags, s o d d e n Irish Times I tagged along w i t h the Fabians, to embarrass C h u r c h A n d State o u r grand design. W o u l d - b e class-warriors W e raised, for a m o m e n t , t h e R e d Flag a t t h e R u b r i c s , T h e n j o i n e d the Civil Service and talked of Civil Rights. W a s T r i n i t y a T r o j a n H o r s e ? W e r e w e G r e e k s a t all?
X

' T h e G o l d e n M e a n is a tension, Ladies, G e n t l e m e n , A n d not a dead level': the H o m e r i c head of Stanford W h o w o u l d n e a r l y s i n g t h e first lines o f t h e Odyssey. T h a i year I s h o u l d h a v e failed, b u t , t e a c h i n g t h e Poetics,

233

H e a s k e d u s for d e f i n i t i o n s , a n d a c c e p t e d m i n e : 'Sir, if p r o s e is a river, t h e n p o e t r y ' s a f o u n t a i n . '

XI

S o m e o n e has s k i p p e d t h e s e m i n a r . I m a g i n e his face, T h e c h i l d r e n ' s faces, m y w i f e ' s : s h e sat b e s i d e m e t h e n A n d they w e r e waiting to be b o r n , ghosts from a future W i t h o u t T o m : h e fell i n l o v e j u s t o n c e a n d d i e d o f it. O h , t o h a v e t u r n e d a w a y f r o m e v e r y t h i n g t o o n e face, E r o s a n d T h a n a t o s y o u r g o d s , icicle a n d d e w . XII W a l k i n g f o r w a r d s i n t o t h e past w i t h m o r e o f a n i d e a I w a n t t o say t o m y friends o f t h i r t y y e a r s a g o A n d t o d a u g h t e r s a n d a s o n t h a t Belfast i s o u r h o m e , P r o s e a r i v e r still - t h e Liffey, t h e L a g a n - a n d p o e t r y A f o u n t a i n t h a t plays i n a n i m a g i n a r y F r o n t S q u a r e . W h e n s n o w falls i t i s f e a t h e r s f r o m t h e w i n g s o f I c a r u s .

.Ml

M I C H A E L

H A R T N E T T

B o r n Newcastle West, C o u n t y Limerick, 1941. Educated at University College Dublin. Lived in L o n d o n and Madrid in the 1960s before returning to Ireland to w o r k variously as a telephonist, house painter and lecturer in creative writing. N o w lives in Dublin. A prolific translator, Hartnett has published versions of Lorca, Dibh O Bruadair, Pdraign Haicad and Nuala Ni D h o m h n a i l l in book form. Currently w o r k i n g on a v o l u m e of translations from Aodhagn O Rathaille. T h e v e h e m e n t , unironical tonalities of Hartnett's poetry place it further from the orthodoxies of t w e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y taste than the w o r k of any comparably gifted c o n t e m p o r a r y Irish writer. Distrustful of a m o d e r n i t y w h i c h threatens c o m m u n a l i t y and its supporting context in the natural world, Hartnett seeks continuity w i t h the e i g h t e e n t h - c e n t u r y poets of his native M u n s t e r - m o u t h p i e c e s of a dying Gaelic culture - rather than with the individualist traditions of n i n e t e e n t h - and t w e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y E u r o p e a n verse. F r o m 1975 to 1985 he asserted that continuity by writing only in Irish. T h o u g h vigorous and various, his Irish verse generally lacks the hard clarity of his best w o r k in English. T h e first three pieces in the selection represent the spare lyricism of his early manner. 'Sneachta Gealai ' 7 7 ' bewails the i m p o t e n c e of the p o e t in the m o d e r n world, a t h e m e H a r t n e t t w o u l d address w i t h rage in ' A n P h u r g h i d ' ('The Purge') and with bleak melancholy in 'An Mnlia N o c h t ' ('The N a k e d Surgeon'), t w o long p o e m s in Irish. Like m u c h of his prolific o u t p u t since his return to English, ' T h e M a n w h o W r o t e Yeats, the M a n w h o W r o t e Mozart' probes the mystery - and the morality - of the creative act.

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BREAD H e r iron beats t h e smell of b r e a d from d a m p linen, silver, crystal and w a r m w h i t e things. Whatever bird I used to b e , hawk or lapwing, tern, or something w i l d , fierce o r s h y , t h e s e b i r d s are d e a d and I c o m e here on tiring wings. Odours of bread . . .

I HAVE EXHAUSTED T H E DELIGHTED RANGE . . . I have exhausted the delighted range o f small b i r d s , a n d n o w , a n e w e n d t o p a i n m a k e s a m i r a g e o f w h a t I w i s h e d m y life. T o r t u r e , i m m e d i a t e to m e , is strange; all t h a t i s left o f t h e o r g a n s r e m a i n in an anaesthetic of unbelief. C o e r c e d b y trivia, n o t h i n g t o gain b u t n o w , or to be pleased t h r o u g h o n e long night a n d forsake i n s t e a d s o m e t h i n g i m m o r t a l ? A n d t h e graceless h e r o n i s k i l l e d i n f l i g h t a n d falls like a l o p p e d flower i n t o t h e stalks. S m a l l b i r d s , small p o e m s , are n o t i m m o r t a l : n o r , h o w e v e r passed, is o n e intense night: t h e r e i s n o t i m e n o w for m y d r e a m o f h a w k s .

236

FOR MY G R A N D M O T H E R , BRIDGET HALPIN M a y b e m o r n i n g lightens over t h e c o l d e s t t i m e i n all t h e d a y , b u t n o t for y o u . A b i r d ' s h o v e r , seabird, blackbird, or bird of p r e y , w a s r a i n , o r d e a t h , o r lost c a t t l e . T h e day's w a r n i n g , t h e r e d plovers s o e t c h e d a n d small i n c l o u d e d sky was b o o k to y o u , and true bible. Y o u died in utter loneliness, y o u r acres left t o t h e childless. Y o u n e v e r saw the animals of God, and the flower under y o u r feet: a n d t h e t r e e s c h a n g e a leaf; a n d t h e r e d fur o f a fox o n a quiet evening; and the long b i r c h e s falling d o w n t h e hillside.

from A FAREWELL TO ENGLISH for Brendan Kennelly

I

H e r eyes w e r e coins o f p o r t e r a n d h e r W e s t Limerick voice talked velvet in the house: h e r h a i r w a s b l a c k a s t h e glossy fireplace w e a r i n g w i t h grace h e r S u n d a y - n i g h t - d a n c e best. S h e c u t t h e f r o t h f r o m glasses w i t h a k n i f e and h a m m e r e d golden whiskies on the bar and her m o u n t a i n y body tripped the gentle m e c h a n i s m of verse: the m i n u t e interlock of w o r d and w o r d began, the r h y t h m formed. I sunk my hands into tradition sifting t h e c e n t u r i e s for w o r d s . T h i s q u i e t e x c i t e m e n t was n o t n e w : e m o t i o n challenged m e t o m a k e i t sayable. T h e c l i c h e s c a m e

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at first, like matchsticks s n a p p i n g from t h e w o r l d of w o r k : mania, simh, dubhfholtach, lainn, caoin: t h e y c a m e like g r e y slabs o f slate b r e a k i n g f r o m an ancient quarry, mania, simh, dubhfholtach, lainn, caoin, slowly vaulting d o w n t h e dark u n u s e d e s c a r p m e n t s , mania, s i m h , d u b h f h o l t a c h , lainn, caoin, crashing on t h e cogs, splinters like axeheads d a m a g e d the wheels, clogging the intricate m a c h i n e , mania, simh, dubhfholtach, lainn, caoin. T h e n Pegasus pulled u p , the girth b r o k e and I was flung back on the gravel of A n g l o - S a x o n . W h a t was I d o i n g w i t h these foreign words? I, the polisher of t h e c o m p l e x clause, w i z a r d o f grasses a n d w a r l o c k o f b i r d s m i d n i g h t - o i l e d i n t h e m e t r i c laws?

dubhfholtach:

blacklockcd

lainn: beautiful mania, svimh and caoin: w o r d s w h o s e m e a n i n g s h o v e r a b o u t t h e English adjectives 'graceful', ' g e n t l e ' .

LAMENT FOR T A D H G C R O N I N ' S CHILDREN T h a t d a y t h e sails o f t h e s h i p w e r e t o r n a n d a fog o b s c u r e d t h e lawns. In the whitewashed house the music stopped. A spark j u m p e d up at the gables a n d t h e silk q u i l t s o n t h e b e d c a u g h t f i r e . T h e y c r y w i t h o u t tears their hearts cry for t h e t h r e e d e a d c h i l d r e n .

2 w

Christ G o d neglect t h e m not n o r leave t h e m in the g r o u n d ! T h e y w e r e ears o f c o r n ! T h e y w e r e apples! T h e y w e r e three harpstnngs! A n d n o w t h e i r l i m b s lie u n d e r g r o u n d a n d t h e b l a c k b e e t l e w a l k s across t h e i r faces. I, t o o , cry w i t h o u t tears my h e a r t cries for t h e t h r e e d e a d c h i l d r e n . based on a poem by Aodhagn O Rathadle

THE MAN W H O W R O T E YEATS, THE MAN W H O WROTE MOZART for John B. Keane I n crisp italic, m e t i c u l o u s a n d s i g n e d , the manuscripts arrived by every post. From somewhere in the North. From someone not quite right. F r o m s o m e o n e w i t h a perfect h a n d w h o w r o t e , ' " W h a t t h e n ? " sang Plato's ghost, " W h a t does it shadow forth?"' w i t h o n e w o r d changed in every o t h e r line. I was c o n f r o n t e d o n c e again b y a m i n d w h i c h lives b y t h a t intangible, subordinating rule, t h e m e n t a l scaffolding o f w h i c h rests o n shifting g r o u n d : the compulsion to believe w h a t is provably u n t r u e ; and seems to us to be s o m e t h i n g not quite right, something not quite sound.

2 vt

I c o u l d h a v e , v e r y easily, u n d e r m i n e d the props that gave such m a k e b e l i e v e support; but not so long before 1 w r o t e a p i e c e b a s e d on a l i n e I'd read in A l e x a n d e r P o p e s o c o u l d I n o w afford to call his w o r k a fraud and give the benefit of truth to m i n e ? If he believed that he had written Yeats as I believed my p o e m was m i n e h e w a s n o s h a m b u t s i m p l y l a c k e d t h e art t o m a k e his s o u r c e o p a q u e w i t h a flourish o f t e c h n i q u e . O r maybe h e was m a d a n d w a s d a n c i n g t o a lie, a d a n c e so f u r i o u s t h a t i t d o e s n o t s t o p w h e n its m u s i c d o e s . A n d I k n e w this lie: it is a b r a k e t h a t h o l d s a frantic f l y w h e e l b a c k w h i c h , i f it's l o o s e n e d , spins t h e c o g s i n s i d e t h e h e a d at s u c h a f r i g h t e n i n g r a t e it c u t s to fragile t a n g l e s and to q u i v e r i n g springs t h e fine m a c h i n e r y o f t h e b r a i n ; for I h a v e s e e n a w o u n d e d m i n d r e t r e a t a w a y f r o m w i n d o w s t h a t c o u l d see t h e s t r e e t w h e n its lie has b e e n e x p o s e d and m o v e to the dead corners of a house and hide in the remotest r o o m to where no contradictions c o m e a n d a n e n d l e s s t a l k i n g flows b e t w e e n i t a n d its c h e r i s h e d lie, a b r o k e n doll in t a w d r y clothes. A n d if anyone intrudes a n d tries t o c o m f o r t a n d c o n f r o n t t h e r e will b e s i l e n c e i n t h e r o o m s for after c o n t r a d i c t i o n s i l e n c e c o m e s .

.'in

P e r h a p s h e sat t h e r e i n his n o r t h e r n g l e n , in some pub or kitchen, and convinced an audience and himself that a poet had arrived; and so e n c h a n t e d w i t h the praise, t h e a d u l a t i o n t h a t t h e Irish g i v e to o n e they think a scribe, he brought, with manic, altering p e n , astonished p o e m s of Yeats before the eyes of equally astonished m e n . A n d in Austria, 1791, real rustics, i n a n e v e n i n g l i g h t , t r u d g e a n d m u r m u r u p a hill t o w a r d s t h e e n t r a n c e of a g a u d y Schloss t o s t a n d a b o u t a s t a t u e d y a r d all n i g h t , o b e d i e n t , at a t o t a l loss, t o suffer m u s i c t h a t t h e y c a n n o t grasp from Franz, t h e G r a f v o n Walsegg's quill. ' M y latest O p u s , a q u a r t e t for ' c e l l o , f l u t e , v i o l a , v i o l i n , has g o t a s u a v e adagio, b a s e d (with some refinements) on a p e a s a n t air. It floats a b o u t a n d interlaces, as it w e r e , all t h e fabric o f t h e p i e c e , w i t h its silver t h r e a d a b o v e t h e l a b o u r o f t h e strings t h a t t r y t o r e a c h a s e m b l a n c e o f its g r a c e without ever getting there.' T h u s , i n his b a r o q u e d o m a i n (Stoppach, Pottschach, Ziegersberg and Klam) the kindly C o u n t v o n Walsegg rambles on, g r a c i o u s in a g i l d e d c h a i r , t o family a n d f r i e n d s ; w i t h all t h e s e r v a n t s t h e r e a d m i r i n g in its p l u s h

II

t h e G e r m a n flute h e h a d e s p e c i a l l y m a d e a n d his ' c e l l o , c h e s t n u t i n its c u r v e s , and the music, glittering on an ornate shelf i n v e l l u m b i n d i n g s c o m m i s s i o n e d b y t h e Graf, immaculately scripted by himself (black n o t e s l i k e b e a d s o f j e t , t r e b l e clefs l i k e h e a d s o f f e r n ) : Sonata, T r i o , and Q u a r t e t by Franz A n t o n Hoffmeister and Francois D e v i e n n e w i t h s o m e n o t e s c h a n g e d i n e v e r y o t h e r staff. A n d yet the C o u n t loved music (as m y f e l l o w - p o e t l o v e d e v e r y line he e v e r cribbed). A n adept o n t h e 'cello a n d t h e flute, h e k e p t his c o u r t m u s i c i a n s , copied out whole works by hand, and paid out gulden by the score; b u t like m y f e l l o w - p o e t the pages that he t u r n e d , t h e a l c h e m y o f quill a n d n i b , the structures of another m a n , the very perfume of the ink transformed a striving to a d o r e to a m o r e c u n n i n g thing. V o n W a l s e g g h a d a n a u d i e n c e i n thrall and was not b o t h e r e d that b e y o n d t h e l i m i t s o f his c o u n t y a n d estate his n a m e w a s n e v e r h e a r d ; h e i n fact p r e f e r r e d (to possible e x p o s u r e a n d disdain) t h e s m u g c o m f o r t of a local fame. B u t D e a t h w h i c h disregards all c l a i m s a n d p r o v e n a n c e c a m e i n t o his ersatz life a n d t o o k his t w e n t y - y e a r - o l d C o u n t e s s off his h a n d s ; a n d o n l y finest m a r b l e ,

242

m a r b l e cut like m u s i c , and music that was marble-like w o u l d d o t o m a r k his m o u r n i n g for his w i f e : s o j o h a n n Martin Fischer, finest s c u l p t o r o f his d a y , was c o m m i s s i o n e d - to design a fitting m o n u m e n t to guard her bones and h o n o u r t h e m , a n d t o see h e r s o u l safely p l a c e d a m o n g t h e saints Mozart, to write a r e q u i e m . Till n o w v o n W a l s e g g was c o n t e n t t o r e - e m b r o i d e r a n y trifling c l o t h his m o n i e s c o u l d s o easily p r o c u r e ; b u t s o o n , a Mozart w o u l d p r e s e n t a great and glittering r o b e to w r a p in definite r e m e m b r a n c e h e r e his d e a d w i f e ' s s o u l ; a n d s o a t last t h e C o u n t h a d f o u n d a w o r k t o m a t c h his m a n i a a n d w e n t o n t o c l a i m (his alibi a s m i l e ) the m a g n i f i c e n t pastiche as his last a n d g r e a t e s t t r i b u t e to his w i f e a n d t o o k t h e p l a u d i t s a s his d u e and b o w e d into the candelabra's glow. But the snickering musicians k n e w . T h e s n i c k e r i n g m u s i c i a n s always k n o w . Oh the wardrobes we have gone through t o dress o u r n a k e d m i n d s ! W h a t g o o d s w e ' v e c h e a p e n e d a n d w h a t suits w e ' v e tried to cover up o u r tattered clothes, to patch up e v e r y threadbare place t h r o u g h w h i c h sharp w i n d continually b l o w s f r o m t h e c o l d halls o f s p a c e . As Aristotle crippled logic for t w o t h o u s a n d y e a r s a n d P l a t o a n d his m i n i o n s c l u t t e r e d u p ( h e sky

!43

with their h u m m i n g spheres the convolvuli of things already d o n e k e e p u s trapped, like any m o o n b o u n d t o its s u n l i k e a t e t h e r e d g o a t w h o s e grass m u s t finally r u n o u t ; a n d t h o u g h n o t a t all a t ease i n this t r e a d m i l l h e a v e n , as we argue from the given to the given w e see a s w e s p i n past o t h e r s y s t e m s , o t h e r stars t h a t w e c a n n e v e r visit; and though taught there's nothing n e w underneath the sun, t h a t t h e r e ' s a l i m i t t o t h e roses w e can b r e e d a n d cull, w e are n o t a t all a t ease w i t h the insistent n o t i o n o f s o m e t h i n g n e w u n d e r n e a t h t h e skull. I, I think, have n o t s u c c u m b e d ( n o t all t h e t i m e , a t a n y rate) to von Walsegg's and my fellow-poet's m o r e c u n n i n g a n d m o r e artless w a y s but if others' w o r k had so bedazed their minds, s o m a d e t h e b a s e o f all t h e y w r o t e h o w m u c h am I bedazed? H o w m u c h m i n e is what I write? Does the superimposition of a p o e m naturalise a n o t h e r ' s t h o u g h t o r b e n d his stray r e f l e c t i o n s to the p o e t ' s will as some composers build partitas o n t h e s q u e a k t h a t ' s m a d e as h a n d s slide up guitars? It is like p o u r i n g m i l k i n t o a s t r e a m h i g h up a hill: t h o u g h d o w n i t c o m e s s o m e h u n d r e d feet (effervescent o v e r rocks

! I l

or lulled to tarns b e h i n d s o m e e l b o w o f grassed turf, falls, t u m b l e s , r u n o r s l o w s a s s m o o t h as a d a r k h o n e y o o z e ) and m a y b e called a r i v u l e t , a r u n n e l or a rill, it still c o m e s o u t a s t r e a m that s o m e o n e p o u r e d some milk into h i g h up a hill. So, repeatedly seduced and repeatedly a n n o y e d at b e i n g s e d u c e d and led by the odder machinations of the heart, I try to m o v e outside the h u m a n r o t e b u t find m y s e l f i n s t e a d in landscapes w h e r e the plants, t h e beasts, are strictly c a t a l o g u e d ; w h e r e frightening hybrids melt into the dark a n d w h e r e l a n g u a g e t h a t lacks e c h o e s strikes d i s c o r d s i n t h e h e a d . So, fearing a descent to syntax that ignores the grammar of our kind, I try to h e w o u t parables f r o m t h e b r o k e n t o r s o s t h a t I find. But I am not contented in my mind.

r.

SNEACHTA GEALA 77 M fin faoin a e r san o i c h e , ag speachadh seoda sneachta i bpirc, gach teach reoite, gach nead prachin m a r g h e a l a c h d h u b h a g s n m h l e hais n a f i o r M fin a g d a m h s a faoin n g e a l a c h , s e a n r i n c e g a n c h e o l leis a c h c e o l cuisle: i s m fin g o h u a i g n e a c h - a n s e a n u a i g n e a s . T h a r imeall na spire ti casadh is goin i s a n bs g o f o n i d e a c h a l m h a ina p h c a ag feadal sa tsrid; m fin s a s n e a c h t a g e a l a i ag m o l a d h n e a d prachin an file go s o t a l a c h , f o c l a c h , sln.

!46

MOONSNOW 77 Myself outside at night, k i c k i n g s n o w - j e w e l s in a field, each house frozen, each rook's nest a b l a c k m o o n s w i m m i n g b y t h e real m o o n . Myself dancing under the m o o n , an old dance w i t h no music but pulse-music: and myself lonely - the ancient loneliness. O v e r the border, torture and w o u n d s and death sneers hands in pockets whistles at street corners: and myself in the m o o n s n o w praising a r o o k ' s nest t h e p o e t , a r r o g a n t , v e r b o s e , safe.
translated by the author

E A M O N

G R E N N A N

B o r n D u b l i n , 1941. Educated at University College D u b l i n and Harvanl University. Lectures in English at Vassar College, N e w Y o r k State. Spends part of each year in Ireland. G r e n n a n ' s years in the U n i t e d States are reflected in the intonations .in- 1 at times in the settings of his p o e m s . He writes in a flexible, discursive idiom w h i c h allows scope alike for meditation and for a sensuous rendition of concrete particulars.

TOTEM All S o u l s ' o v e r , t h e roast s e e d s e a t e n , I set on a b a c k p o r c h post o u r sculpted p u m p k i n u n d e r the weathei w a r m still for N o v e m b e r . N i g h t a n d d a y i t g a p e s i n a t u s t h r o u g h t h e k i t c h e n w i n d o w , g o i n g soft i n t h e h e a d . S l e e p w a l k e r - s l o w , a b l a c k rash o f ants h a r r o w s this h o l l o w e d g l o b e , m u n c h i n g t h e pale p e a c h flesh, s u c k i n g its s e a s o n e d last j u i c e s d r y . In a w e e k , w h e n t h e ants a n d h u m m i n g flies are d o n e , o n l y a h a r d r e m o r s e l e s s l i g h t drills a n d t e n a n t s it t h r o u g h and through. W i t h i n , it turns mould-black i n p a t c h e s , stays days l i k e this w h i l e t h e w e a t h e r t a k e s i t i n its shifty a r m s : w i d e e y e - s p a c e s s h i n e , t h e d i s a p p r o v i n g m o u t h holds firm. A n o t h e r w e e k , a sad l e a p f o r w a r d : s u n k t o o n e side s o a n e y e - s o c k e t ' s a l m o s t b l o c k e d , i t b e c o m e s a m o n s t e r o f its f o r m e r self. H u m a n , i t w o u l d h a v e r o t t e d b e y o n d u n h a p p i n e s s a n d h o r r o r t o s o m e u n s p e a k a b l e s u b j e c t state - its n o s e no m o r e than a vertical h o l e , t h e thin bridge of a m b e r b e t w e e n nose and m o u t h i n ruins. T h e o t h e r socket o p e n . w i d e r t h a n e v e r : disbelief. It's all d o w n h i l l f r o m h e r e : k n u c k l e s o f s u n , p e r e m p t o r y s t e a d y fingers o f frost, strain all d a y a n d n i g h t a t it, c r a c k i n g t h e r i n d , k n e a d i n g t h e k n o t t e d fibres free. The c r o w n w i t h its t o p - k n o t m o c k e r y o f stalk caves in; the- skull

48

b u c k l e s ; t h e w h o l e h e a d d r i p s t a l l o w y tears: t h e e n d is in sight. In a d a y or t w o it t o p p l e s on itself like r u i n e d t h a t c h , p u s - w h i t e d r o o l s p i d e r i n g f r o m t h e c o r n e r o f t h e m o u t h a n d w o r m i n g its w a y d o w n t h e b o d y - p o s t . All d i g n i t y t o t h e w i n d s , i t b o w s its b o g e y m a n face o f d r e a d t o t h e i n e v i t a b l e . A n d n o w , N o v e m b almost o u t , it is in the bright unseasonable sunshine a s i m m e r o f p u l p , a s l o w b a k e , a m b e r shell s p e c k l e d c h a l k - g r e y w i t h l i c h e n . L i g h t strikes a n d strikes its b u r s t surfaces: it sags, stays at t h e e n d of its b r i e f t e t h e r - a h e l m e t o f d a r k circles, d e a t h caul. H e r e i s t h e last u m b i l i c a l gasp, e v e r y b o d y ' s n i g h t m a r e p a r e n t , t h e pitiless s y s t e m r u b b i n g o u r n o s e s i n it. B u t p i t y p o o r l a n t e r n - h e a d w i t h his lights o u t , g l o b by greasy glob g o i n g back w h e r e he c a m e from. As each s e e d - s h a p e d d r o p falls free, i t c a t c h e s a n d c l u t c h e s for o n e split s e c o n d t h e l i g h t . W h e n t h e p u m p k i n lapses t o o u r c o m m o n g r o u n d a t last - w h e r e a w h i t e s w a d d l e o f s n o w w i l l fold i t i n n o t i m e f r o m sight I t r y t o t a k e i n t h e e m p t y s p a c e it's left on t o p of t h e w o o d e n post: it is that e m p t y space.

FOUR DEER F o u r d e e r lift u p t h e i r l o v e l y h e a d s t o m e i n t h e d u s k o f t h e g o l f c o u r s e I p l o d across t o w a r d s h o m e . T h e y ' r e b r o w s i n g t h e w e t grass t h e s n o w has left a n d , s t a t u e d , stare a t m e i n d e e p s i l e n c e a n d I see w h a t e v e r l i g h t t h e r e i s g a t h e r t o glossy p o o l s i n t h e i r e i g h t m i l d , barely curious b u t w a r y eyes. W h e n o n e at a t i m e ( h e y b e n d again t o f e e d , I c a n h e a r t h e crisp m o i s t c r u n c h o f t h e s u r v i v i n g grass b e t w e e n t h e i r t e e t h , i m a g i n e t h e s l o w lick o f a t o n g u e o v e r w h i c k e r i n g lips. T h e y ' v e c o m e f r o m t h e u n l i t w i n t e r c o r n e r s o t t h e i r Iright t o f i n d i l i r s h s e a s o n , this early gift, a n d s t a n d almost e a s y a t t h e e d g e o l w h i t e s n o w islands a n d l a p the grey green s w e e t depleted grass 149 A b o u t them

h a n g s a n air o f s u c h d o m e s t i c s e n s e , t h e c o m f o r t a b l e h u s h o f folk a t h o m e w i t h o n e a n o t h e r , a f a m i l i a r s o m e t h i n g I sense in spite of t h e great gulf of strangeness w e m u s t l o o k o v e r a t each o t h e r . Tails flicker w h i t e i n t h i c k e n i n g d u s k a n d I feel t h e i r r e l i e f a t t h e t o u c h o f c o l d s n o w u n d e r f o o t w h i l e t h e i r faces n u z z l e grass, as if, l i k e b i r d s , t h e y h a d c r o s s e d unspeakable vacant wastes w i t h n o t h i n g b u t h u n g e r shaping their brains a n d d r i v i n g t h e m from leaf to d r y leaf, s o u r strips o f b a r k , u n d e r a t h u n d e r o f g u n s and i n t o t h e cold c o m f o r t of early dark. I've seen their straight despairing lines c l o v e n in snowfields u n d e r s t o r m , a n I n d i a n file o f f a m i s h e d n a t i v e s , p o o r u n p r a y e d - f o r w a n d e r e r s t h r o u g h b l i n d i n g chill, seasoned castaways i n search o f h o m e ports, w h i c h t h e y ' v e f o u n d a t last, h e r e o n w i n t e r ' s v e r g e b e t w e e n o u r h o u s e s a n d t h e i r t r e e s . All o f a s u d d e n , I ' v e c o m e t o o c l o s e . M o v i n g as o n e m i n d t h e y spring in silent w a v e s o v e r t h e grass, t h e n c r a c k s n o w w i t h s h a r p h a r d snaps, lightfooting it i n t o t h e sanctuary of a p i n e g r o v e w h e r e they stand l o o k i n g back at m e , a deer-shaped f a m i l y o f s h a d o w s against t h e d a r k e r a r c h o f t r e e s a n d t h i s r u s t i n g d u s k . W h e n s i l e n c e settles o v e r u s a g a i n a n d t h e y b o w d o w n t o b r o w s e , t h e s o u n d o f grass b e i n g l i p p e d , b i t t e n , m e e t s m e across t h e space b e t w e e n us. Close e n o u g h for c o m f o r t , t h e y s e e w e k e e p , i n s t i n c t i v e l y , o u r d i s t a n c e , s h a r i n g this air w h e r e a f e w last s h a r d s o f d a y l i g h t still g l i t t e r i n little m e l t p o o l s o r s p r e a d a s k i n o f b r i g h t n e s s o n t h e ice, t h e ice stiffening t o w a r d s m i d n i g h t u n d e r t h e c l e a n m a g n e s i u m b u r n o f a first star.

BREAKING POINTS for Joe Butwin

They all want to break at some point,

if you can only find it, he says, h o i s t i n g the w e d g e h e a d e d heavy axe and c o m i n g d o w n with it in o n e swift g l i t t e r i n g a r c : a single chunk, t h e n t h e g l e a m o f t w o hall m o o n s o l m a p l e

rolling over in the driveway. He finds his p r o p e r r h y t h m , m y s t r o n g f r i e n d f r o m t h e w e s t , s t a n d i n g e a c h half s t r a i g h t u p , t h e n levelling swinging striking dead centre: t w o quarters fall a p a r t f r o m o n e a n o t h e r a n d lie, o f f - w h i t e flesh s h i n i n g , on the cracked tarmac. I stand back and watch him bend and bring to the chopping-place a solid s a w n - o f f w h e e l o f t h e m a p l e b o u g h t h e u n e x p e c t e d early s n o w b r o u g h t d o w n in a c l a m o r o u s r u s h of s t r i c k e n leafage, a g r e a t w e i g h t he walks gingerly u n d e r a n d g e n t l y sets d o w n . W h e n h e tests i t w i t h his e y e I r e m e m b e r a b u i l d e r of d r y s t o n e walls saying the same thing a b o u t rocks and big stones, t u r n i n g o n e o v e r a n d o v e r , h u n t i n g its l i n e of least r e s i s t a n c e , t h e n o f f e r i n g it a little d u l l tap w i t h his m a l l e t : t h e s t o n e , a s i f h e ' d slipped the k n o t h o l d i n g it together, o p e n e d - c l o n e d - a n d s h o w e d its b r i g h t i n n e r life t o t h e w o r l d . J o e g o e s o n l o g g i n g for a f u r i o u s h o u r , l a y i n g a r o u n d h i m t h e split q u a r t e r s , l i t t e r i n g t h e t a r - b l a c k d r i v e w a y w i t h t h e i r m a t t e vanilla g l i t t e r . S e e i n g h i m lean on t h e axe-shaft for a m i n u t e ' s h e a d b e n t s i l e n c e i n t h e t h i c k o f his h a n d i w o r k , I r e m e m b e r standing in silence at the c e n t r e o f t h e l i v i n g - r o o m I w a s l e a v i n g for t h e last t i m e after t e n years o f m a r r i a g e , t h e p o l i s h e d p i n e f l o o r s c a t t e r e d w i t h t h e bits a n d p i e c e s I was taking w i t h m e , ( I K - List battle still s i n g i n g in my head, the crossed limbs of the children sofa s p r a w l e d in s l e e p . A n d as s o o n as he finishes
a n d c o n u s in, steam

s p r o u t i n g from lus r e d w e t n e c k
a n d m a t t e d hair, d a i k m a p s o l s w e a t .".I

s t a i n i n g his n a v y b l u e T - s h i r t , I w a n t t o say a s h e d r a i n s his s e c o n d glass o f l e m o n a d e t h a t this is t h e w a y it is in the world we make and break for o u r s e l v e s : first t h e l o n g g r e e n g r o w i n g , t h e n the storm, the heavy axe, those shining remnants t h a t ' l l s e a s o n for a y e a r b e f o r e t h e fire gets t h e m ; this i s t h e w a y i t is, this v i o l e n t c o n c e n t r a t e d a c t i o n asserting ourselves t o ourselves, the w a y w e stand a n d flail o u r w a y t o f r e e d o m o f a s o r t , a n d after t h e h e a t a n d b l i s t e r i n g d e e d o f i t h o w t h e h e a r t b e a t s i n its b i r d c a g e o f b o n e and you're alone w i t h y o u r o w n s t a g g e r e d , sufficient b o d y , its toll t a k e n , o n t h e n e r v o u s v e r g e o f e x a l t a t i o n . B u t I say n o t h i n g , p o u r m o r e l e m o n a d e , o p e n a b e e r , listen t o t h e tale h e tells of breakage back h o m e - the rending-place we reach w h e n the labouring heart fails us a n d we say, What now? What else? Wliat? In t h e d u s k a s s e m b l i n g against t h e w i n d o w , I c a n see t h e b i g g o u g e d m a p l e r a d i a n t w h e r e t h e b o u g h s t o r m e d off, a n d t h e split l o g s scattered and bright over the driveway - in w h a t f r o m this B a b y l o n i a n d i s t a n c e l o o k s l i k e a p a t t e r n of solid purposes or the e n d of j o y .

D E R E K

M A H O N

Horn Belfast, 1941. Educated at the Royal Belfast Academical Institution and Trinity College Dublin. F r o m 1970 to 1985 he w o r k e d in L o n d o n as a journalist (including stints as features editor of Vogue and literary editor of the New Statesman) and scriptwriter. After t w o years in Kinsale, ( 'ounty C o r k , he m o v e d in 1988 to Dublin. N o w lives in N e w Y o r k as a freelance writer and lecturer. A distinguished translator from the French, he has published versions of Molire, de Nerval and Philippe Jaccottet in b o o k form. M a h o n has edited Tlie Sphere Book of Modern Irish Poetry (1972) and (with Peter Fallon) The Penguin Book of Contemporary Irish Poetry (1990). Mahon's stylish and even sprightly melancholy has r e m i n d e d critics of Louis M a c N e i c e , as has his liking for formal strategies w h i c h at o n c e endorse and subvert classicism. His sensibility is m o r e purely speculative than the earlier poet's, h o w e v e r , and his irony m o r e desolating. T h e apocalyptic perspectives o f ' L i v e s ' and 'An Image from Beckett' derive from late-twentieth-century conditions b e y o n d t h e reach of M a c N e i c e ' s 1 1 in nanism. T h o u g h M a h o n recoils from c o m m i t m e n t , the northern crisis i'. deeply implicated in his mature poetry. T h e oblique commentaries of "The S n o w Party' and 'A Disused Shed in C o . W e x f o r d ' lend a
III.U

rocosmic frame of reference and a near metaphysical significance to

l u s h troubles past and present. T h e latter p o e m gives voice by proxy to those relicts and victims to w h o m history, pace A u d e n , can only say Alas'. 'Courtyards in Delft' draws connections b e t w e e n British and I )utch imperialism, and b e t w e e n Ulster and South Africa, while 'Tractatus' typifies the apparent ease with w h i c h M a h o n can shade from w h i m s y into vision.

A DYING ART ' T h a t d a y w o u l d skin a fairy A d y i n g a r t , ' s h e said. N o t m a n y left o f t h e o l d t r a d e . R e d u n d a n t a n d r e m o t e , t h e y age G r a c e f u l l y in d a r k c o r n e r s With lamp-lighters, sail-makers And native M a n x speakers

A n d the bone-handled knives with w h i c h T h e y earned their bread? My granny grinds H e r p l u g t o b a c c o w i t h o n e t o this d a y .

ECCLESIASTES G o d , y o u c o u l d g r o w t o l o v e it, G o d - f e a r i n g , G o d c h o s e n p u r i s t little p u r i t a n t h a t , for all y o u r w i l e s a n d s m i l e s , y o u are ( t h e d a n k c h u r c h e s , t h e e m p t y streets, t h e shipyard silence, t h e t i e d - u p swings) a n d shelter y o u r cold heart from the heat of the world, from woman-inquisition, from the bright eyes o f children. Yes y o u c o u l d w e a r b l a c k , d r i n k w a t e r , n o u r i s h a fierce zeal w i t h locusts and w i l d h o n e y , and n o t feel called u p o n t o u n d e r s t a n d a n d f o r g i v e b u t only to speak w i t h a bleak afflatus, a n d l o v e t h e J a n u a r y rains w h e n t h e y d a r k e n t h e d a r k d o o r s a n d sink h a r d i n t o t h e A n t r i m hills, t h e b o g m e a d o w s , t h e h e a p e d g r a v e s o f y o u r fathers. B u r y t h a t r e d b a n d a n a , stick a n d g u i t a r ; this i s y o u r c o u n t r y , close o n e eye a n d b e king. Y o u r people await you, their heavy washing flaps for y o u in t h e h o u s i n g estates a c r e d u l o u s p e o p l e . G o d , y o u c o u l d d o it, G o d h e l p y o u , s t a n d o n a c o r n e r stiff w i t h rhetoric, promising n o t h i n g u n d e r the sun.

AN IMAGE FROM BECKETT for Doreeri In that instant T h e r e w a s a sea, far oft. As b r i g h t as l e t t u c e ,

A n o r t h e r n landscape And a huddle Of houses along the shore. Also, I think, a w h i t e F l i c k e r o f gulls A n d washing h u n g to dry T h e poignancy of those Back yards - a n d the gravedigger P u t t i n g aside his f o r c e p s . T h e n the hard boards A n d darkness o n c e again. But in that instant I was struck by the Sweetness a n d light, T h e sweetness and light, I m a g i n i n g w h a t grave C i t i e s , w h a t lasting m o n u m e n t s , Given the time. T h e y will h a v e b u r i e d My great-grandchildren, and theirs, Beside m e b y n o w W i t h a subliminal batsqueak O f reflex l a m e n t a t i o n . O u r knuckle bones Litter the rich earth Changing, second by second, T o civilizations. I t w a s g o o d w h i l e i t lasted, A n d if it o n l y lasted T h e Biblical span

R e q u i r e d t o d r o p six feet T h r o u g h a glitter of w i n t r y light, There is N o - O n e to blame. Still, I am h a u n t e d By that landscape, T h e soft r u s h o f its w i n d s , T h e u p r i g h t n e s s o f its Utilities and schoolchildren T o w h o m i n m y will, T h i s , I h a v e left m y w i l l . I hope they have time, A n d l i g h t e n o u g h , t o r e a d it.

LIVES for Seamus Heaney First t i m e o u t I w a s a t o r e of g o l d A n d w e p t tears o f t h e s u n . T h a t w a s fun But they buried me I n t h e e a r t h t w o t h o u s a n d years Till a l a b o u r e r T u r n e d me up with a pick In eighteen fifty-four A n d sold m e F o r tea a n d sugar In Newmarket-on-Fergus. O n c e I was an oar B u t s t u c k i n t h e shoreTo m a r k the place ol a grave

.'Si.

W h e n t h e lost s h i p Sailed a w a y . I t h o u g h t O f Ithaca, b u t s o o n decayed. T h e time that I liked Best was w h e n I w a s a b u m p of clay In a N a v a h o r u g , Put there to mitigate T h e too god-like Perfection of that M e r e l y h u m a n artifact. I s e r v e d my m a k e r w e l l H e lived long T o b e struck d o w n i n T u c s o n by an electric shock T h e n i g h t t h e lights W e n t out in Europe N e v e r to shine again. S o m a n y lives, So m a n y things to r e m e m b e r I w a s a s t o n e in T i b e t , A t o n g u e of b a r k A t t h e h e a r t o f Africa G r o w i n g darker and darker . It all s e e m s A little u n r e a l n o w , N o w that I am An anthropologist With my own C r e d i t card, d i c t a p h o n e .

Army-surplus boots A n d a whole boatload Of photographic equipment. I k n o w too much To be anything any more; A n d if in the distant Future someone T h i n k s h e has o n c e b e e n m e As I am t o d a y , Let h i m revise His insolent ontology Or teach himself to pray.

T H E S N O W PARTY for Louis Asekoff Bash, coming T o t h e city o f N a g o y a , Is a s k e d to a s n o w p a r t y . T h e r e is a t i n k l i n g of c h i n a A n d tea i n t o china; T h e r e are i n t r o d u c t i o n s . T h e n everyone Crowds to the w i n d o w T o w a t c h t h e falling s n o w . S n o w i s falling o n N a g o y a A n d farther south

O n t h e tiles o f Kyoto.
Eastward, b e y o n d Irago, It is falling

L i k e leaves o n t h e c o l d sea.

..SH

E l s e w h e r e t h e y are b u r n i n g Witches and heretics In the boiling squares, T h o u s a n d s h a v e d i e d since d a w n In the service O f barbarous kings; B u t t h e r e is silence In the houses of Nagoya A n d t h e hills o f Ise.

A REFUSAL TO M O U R N He lived in a small f a r m - h o u s e At t h e edge of a n e w estate. T h e trim gardens crept T o his d o o r , a n d c a r e n g i n e s W o k e h i m before d a w n O n dark w i n t e r m o r n i n g s . All d a y t h e r e w a s s i l e n c e In the bright house. T h e clock T i c k e d o n t h e k i t c h e n shelf, Cinders m o v e d in the grate, A n d a w a r m briar gurgled W h e n t h e o l d m a n t a l k e d t o himself; But the door-bell seldom rang After the m i l k m a n w e n t , A n d if a s h i r t - h a n g e r Knocked in an open wardrobe T h a t was a strange e v e n t T o b e p o n d e r e d o n for h o u r s While the w i n d thrashed about In the back g a r d e n , raking T h e rool o l the h e n - h o u s e .
A n d swept ( louds and gulls

Eastwards o v e r the lough W i t h its flap o f t i n y sails. O n c e a w e e k h e w o u l d visit An old shipyard crony, Inching d o w n to the road A n d the blue country bus T o sit a n d w a t c h s u n - d a p p l e d Branches whacking the w i n d o w s While the long evening shed W e a k l i g h t i n his e m p t y h o u s e , O n t h e p h o t o g r a p h s o f his d e a d W i f e a n d t h e i r six c h i l d r e n A n d the Missions to Seamen angel I n flight a b o v e t h e b e d . T m n o t l o n g for this w o r l d , ' Said h e o n o u r last e v e n i n g , 'I'll n o t last t h e w i n t e r , ' A n d grinned, straining to hear W h a t e v e r reply I made; A n d died the following year. I n t i m e t h e a s t r i n g e n t rain Of those parts will clean T h e w o r d s f r o m his g r a v e s t o n e In the crowded cemetery T h a t o v e r l o o k s t h e sea A n d his n a m e b e m u d o n c e a g a i n A n d his b o i l e r s lie like t o m b s I n t h e m u d o f t h e sea b e d T i l l t h e n e x t i c e age c o m e s A n d the earth he inherited Is g o n e like N e a n d e r t h a l M a n A n d no records remain. B u t the secret b r e d in the b o n e O n the d a w n strand survives In o t h e r times and lives.

P e r s i s t i n g for t h e u n b o r n L i k e a c l a w - p r i n t in c o n c r e t e A f t e r t h e b i r d has f l o w n .

A DISUSED SHED IN C O . W E X F O R D

Let them not forget us, the weak souls among the asphodels.
Sefcris, Mythistorema, tr. Keclcy and Shcrrard

forJ.G. Farrell E v e n n o w t h e r e are places w h e r e a t h o u g h t m i g h t g r o w Peruvian mines, w o r k e d out and abandoned To a slow clock of condensation, A n e c h o t r a p p e d for e v e r , a n d a flutter O f w i l d - f l o w e r s i n t h e lift-shaft, Indian c o m p o u n d s w h e r e the w i n d dances A n d a d o o r bangs with diminished confidence, L i m e crevices b e h i n d rippling rain-barrels, D o g c o r n e r s for b o n e b u r i a l s ; A n d in a disused shed in C o . W e x f o r d , D e e p in the grounds of a b u r n t - o u t hotel, A m o n g the bathtubs and the washbasins A t h o u s a n d m u s h r o o m s c r o w d to a k e y h o l e . T h i s i s t h e o n e star i n t h e i r f i r m a m e n t Or frames a star w i t h i n a star. W h a t s h o u l d t h e y d o t h e r e b u t desire? S o m a n y days b e y o n d t h e r h o d o d e n d r o n s W i t h t h e w o r l d w a l t z i n g i n its b o w l o f c l o u d , T h e y have learnt p a t i e n c e and silence Listening to the rooks querulous in the high w o o d . T h e y h a v e b e e n w a i t i n g for u s i n a f o e t o r O f v e g e t a b l e s w e a t s i n c e civil w a r days, Since the gravel-crunching, interminable departure Ol the expropriated mycologist. I l e n e v e r c a m e b a c k , a n d light s i n c e t h e n Is i k e y h o l e r u s t i n g g e n t l y a l t e r rain.
S p i d e r s h a v e ' - p u n , Mies d u s t e d t o m i l d e w

A n d o n c e a day, perhaps, t h e y have heard s o m e t h i n g A trickle of m a s o n r y , a s h o u t from the b l u e Or a lorry changing gear at the e n d of the lane. T h e r e h a v e b e e n d e a t h s , t h e p a l e flesh f l a k i n g I n t o t h e e a r t h t h a t n o u r i s h e d it; A n d nightmares, born of these and the grim D o m i n i o n o f stale air a n d r a n k m o i s t u r e . T h o s e nearest the d o o r g r o w strong 'Elbow room! Elbow room!' T h e rest, d i m i n a t w i l i g h t o f c r u m b l i n g Utensils and b r o k e n pitchers, groaning For their deliverance, have been so long E x p e c t a n t t h a t t h e r e i s left o n l y t h e p o s t u r e . A h a l f c e n t u r y , w i t h o u t v i s i t o r s , in t h e d a r k P o o r p r e p a r a t i o n for t h e c r a c k i n g l o c k A n d creak of hinges. Magi, m o o n m e n , P o w d e r y prisoners of the old regime, W e b - t h r o a t e d , s t a l k e d like triffids, r a c k e d b y d r o u g h t A n d insomnia, only the ghost of a scream A t the flash-bulb firing-squad w e w a k e t h e m w i t h S h o w s t h e r e i s life y e t i n t h e i r feverish f o r m s . G r o w n b e y o n d n a t u r e n o w , soft f o o d for w o r m s , T h e y lift frail h e a d s i n g r a v i t y a n d g o o d faith. T h e y are b e g g i n g us, y o u see, in their wordless w a y , To do s o m e t h i n g , to speak on their behalf O r a t least n o t t o close t h e d o o r a g a i n . Lost p e o p l e o f T r e b l i n k a a n d P o m p e i i ! ' S a v e u s , save u s , ' t h e y s e e m t o say, 'Let the god not abandon us W h o h a v e c o m e s o far i n d a r k n e s s a n d i n p a i n . W e t o o h a d o u r lives t o l i v e . Y o u w i t h y o u r light m e t e r a n d relaxed itinerary, Let n o t o u r naive labours have b e e n in vain!'

COURTYARDS IN DELFT Pieter de Hooch, 1659 for Gordon Woods O b l i q u e l i g h t o n t h e t r i t e , o n b r i c k a n d tile Immaculate masonry, and e v e r y w h e r e that W a t e r t a p , t h a t b r o o m a n d w o o d e n pail T o k e e p i t so. H o u s e - p r o u d , t h e wives O f artisans p u r s u e t h e i r thrifty lives A m o n g scrubbed yards, m o d e s t b u t a d e q u a t e . F o l i a g e i s sparse, a n d clings. N o b r e e z e Ruffles t h e t r i m c o m p o s u r e o f t h o s e t r e e s . No spinet-playing emblematic of T h e harmonies and disharmonies of love; N o l e w d f i s h , n o fruit, n o w i d e - e y e d b i r d A b o u t to fly its c a g e w h i l e a v i r g i n Listens t o h e r s e d u c e r , m a r s t h e c h a s t e Perfection of the thing and the thing m a d e . N o t h i n g is r a n d o m , n o t h i n g goes to waste. W e miss t h e d i r t y d o g , t h e f i e r y g i n . T h a t girl w i t h h e r b a c k t o u s w h o w a i t s F o r h e r m a n t o c o m e h o m e for his tea W i l l w a i t till t h e p a i n t d i s i n t e g r a t e s A n d r u i n e d d i k e s a d m i t t h e e s u r i e n t sea; Y e t this i s life t o o , a n d t h e c r a c k e d ( ) u t - h o u s e d o o r a verifiable fact As vividly m n e m o n i c as the sunlit Railings t h a t f r o n t t h e h o u s e s o p p o s i t e . I l i v e d t h e r e as a b o y a n d k n o w t h e c o a l ( i l i t t e r i n g i n its s h e d , l a t e - a f t e r n o o n I a m b e n c y i n f o r m i n g t h e deal table, T h e ceiling cradled in a radiant spoon. I must be lying l o w in a r o o m t h e r e , A s t r a n g e c h i l d w i t h a taste for v e r s e , While my h.ird-nosed c o m p a n i o n s dream of fire A n d s w o i d u p o n p a n b e d veldt a n d fields o f r a i n - s w e p t g o r s e .

RATHLIN A l o n g t i m e s i n c e t h e last s c r e a m c u t s h o r t T h e n an unnatural silence; and t h e n A natural silence, slowly b r o k e n By the shearwater, by the sporadic C o n v e r s a t i o n of crickets, the bleak R e m i n d e r of a metaphysical wind. A g e s o f t h i s , till t h e r e p o r t Of an outboard m o t o r at the pier Shatters the d r e a m - t i m e , a n d we land A s i f w e w e r e t h e first v i s i t o r s h e r e . T h e w h o l e island a s a n c t u a r y w h e r e a m a z e d O n e i r i c species whistle a n d chatter, E v a c u a t i n g rock-face a n d cliff-top. C e r u l e a n distance, an o c e a n i c haze N o t h i n g but sea-smoke to the ice-cap A n d the o d d s o m n o l e n t freighter. B o m b s d o z e i n t h e h o u s i n g estates B u t h e r e t h e y are t h r o u g h w i t h h i s t o r y Custodians of a lone light w h i c h repeats O n e s i m p l e s t a t e m e n t t o t h e t u r b u l e n t sea. A l o n g time since the unspeakable violence Since Somhairle B u i d h , powerless on the mainland, H e a r d the screams of the Rathlin w o m e n B o r n e t o h i m , s e c o n d s later, u p o n t h e w i n d . O n l y t h e cry o f the shearwater A n d the roar of the o u t b o a r d m o t o r Disturb the singular peace. Spray-blind, W e leave h e r e the infancy o f the race, U n s u r e a m o n g t h e p i t c h i n g surfaces W h e t h e r t h e f u t u r e lies b e f o r e u s o r b e h i n d .

e l

TRACTATUS for Aidan Higgins ' T h e w o r l d is e v e r y t h i n g that is t h e case' F r o m the fly giving up in the coal-shed T o the W i n g e d Victory o f Samothrace. G i v e b l a m e , praise, t o t h e f u m b l i n g G o d W h o h i d e s , shame-facedly, H i s a g e d face; W h o s e l i g h t r e t i r e s b e h i n d its veil o f c l o u d . T h e w o r l d , t h o u g h , i s also s o m u c h m o r e E v e r y t h i n g t h a t i s t h e case i m a g i n a t i v e l y . T a c i t u s b e l i e v e d m a r i n e r s c o u l d hear T h e s u n s i n k i n g i n t o t h e w e s t e r n sea; A n d w h o w o u l d question that titanic roar, T h e steam rising w h e r e v e r the edge may be

63

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N I

C H U I L L E A N A I N

B o r n 1942 in C o r k , daughter of C o r m a c Cuilleanin, professor ol Irish at University College C o r k , and the novelist Eilis Dillon. Educatci at U C C and Oxford. Lecturer in Medieval and Renaissance English at Trinity College Dublin since 1966. A founder and c o - e d i t o r of Cyphers she has edited Irish Women: Image and Achievement - Women in Irish Culture from Earliest Times (1985). N Chuilleanin emerges in h e r best w o r k as a p o e t of powerful intelligence w h o can sustain vivid, c o m p l e x metaphors over n u m b e r s i > lines - a capacity some c o m m e n t a t o r s have related to her interest in the poetry of the English Renaissance. A subtle, elaborate exploration of the historical experience of w o m e n is developed in many of her m o r e recent p o e m s .

T H E S E C O N D VOYAGE O d y s s e u s r e s t e d o n his o a r a n d s a w T h e ruffled f o r e h e a d s o f t h e w a v e s C r o c o d i l i n g a n d m i n c i n g past: h e r a m m e d T h e oar b e t w e e n their jaws and l o o k e d d o w n I n t h e s i m m e r i n g sea w h e r e s c r i b b l e s o f w e e d d e f i n e d U n c e r t a i n d e p t h , a n d t h e slim fishes p r o g r e s s e d I n fatal f o r m a t i o n , a n d t h o u g h t If t h e r e w a s a s i n g l e Streak of d e c e n c y in these waves n o w , t h e y ' d be ridged P o c k e d and dented with the battering they've had, A n d w e c o u l d n a m e t h e m a s A d a m n a m e d t h e beasts, Saluting a n e w o n e with dismay, or a notorious o n e W i t h a d m i r a t i o n ; t h e y ' d n o t i c e u s passing A n d rejoice at o u r shipwreck, b u t these H a v e less c h a r a c t e r t h a n s h e e p a n d n e e d m o r e p a t i e n c e . I k n o w w h a t I'll d o h e said; I'll p a r k m y s h i p i n t h e c r o o k o f a l o n g p i e r ( A n d I'll t a k e y o u w i t h m e h e said t o t h e oar)

I'll face t h e rising g r o u n d a n d w a l k a w a y F r o m tidal w a t e r s , u p r i v e r b e d s W h e r e h e r o n s parcel o u t the miles of stream, O v e r gaps i n t h e hills, t h r o u g h w a r m S i l e n t valleys, a n d w h e n I m e e t a f a r m e r Bold e n o u g h to look me in t h e eye W i t h ' w h e r e are y o u off t o w i t h t h a t l o n g W i n n o w i n g fan o v e r y o u r s h o u l d e r ? ' T h e r e I will s t a n d still A n d I'll p l a n t y o u for a g a t e p o s t or a h i t c h i n g - p o s t A n d l e a v e y o u as a t i d e m a r k . I c a n go b a c k And organise my house then. But the profound U n f e n c e d valleys o f t h e o c e a n still h e l d h i m ; He had only the oar to m a k e t h e m k e e p their distance; T h e sea w a s still f r y i n g u n d e r t h e s h i p ' s s i d e . I le considered the water-lilies, and t h o u g h t about fountains Spraying as w i d e as willows in e m p t y squares, The s u g a r s t i c k o f w a t e r c l a t t e r i n g i n t o t h e k e t t l e , T h e flat lakes b i s e c t i n g t h e r u s h e s . H e r e m e m b e r e d s p i d e r s a n d frogs I l o u s e k e e p i n g at the roadside in b r o w n trickles floored w i t h mud, I l o r s e t r o u g h s , t h e black canal, pale swans at dark: I lis face g r e w d a m p w i t h t e a r s t h a t t a s t e d I ike his o w n s w e a t o r t h e insults o f t h e sea.

DEATHS AND ENGINES W e came d o w n above the houses In a stiff c u r v e , a n d A t t h e e d g e o f Paris a i r p o r t Saw an e m p t y tunnel - T h e back half of a plane, black O n t h e s n o w , n o b o d y n e a r it, T u b u l a r , b u r n t - o u t and frozen. W h e n w e faced again I he s n o w w h i t e r u n w a y s in t h e dark
267

No sound came over T h e l o u d s p e a k e r s , e x c e p t t h e sighs O f the lonely pilot. T h e cold of metal wings is contagious: S o o n y o u will n e e d w i n g s o f y o u r o w n , C o r n e r e d in the angle w h e r e T i m e a n d life l i k e a k n i f e a n d f o r k C r o s s , a n d t h e lifeline i n y o u r p a l m Breaks, and the curve of an aeroplane's track M e e t s the straight skyline. T h e i m a g e s o f relief: Hospital pyjamas, screens r o u n d a b e d A m a n w i t h a b l o o d y face Sitting up in b e d , conversing cheerfully T h r o u g h c u t lips: T h e s e will fail y o u s o m e t i m e . Y o u will find y o u r s e l f a l o n e Accelerating d o w n a blind A l l e y , t o o late t o s t o p A n d k n o w h o w l i g h t y o u r d e a t h is; Y o u will b e s c a t t e r e d l i k e w r e c k a g e , T h e pieces e v e r y o n e a different shape W i l l spin a n d l o d g e i n t h e h e a r t s O f all w h o l o v e y o u .

THE INFORMANT U n d e r n e a t h the photograph O f t h e old w o m a n a t h e r k i t c h e n table W i t h a w i n d o w b e y o n d (fuchsias, a h e n h o u s e , t h e sea) A r e e n t e r e d : h e r n a m e a n d a g e , h e r late h u s b a n d ' s o c c u p a t i o n (A gauger), her birthplace, not here B u t in a n o t h e r parish, near the main road. S h e i s s i t t i n g w i t h tea a t h e r e l b o w A n d her o w n fairy-cakes, b a k e d that m o r n i n g F o r t h e y o u n g m a n w h o listens n o w t o t h e t a p e

O f her voice changing, telling the story, A n d hears himself asking, Did you ever see it yourself? O n c e , I s a w it. Can you describe it? B u t t h e s o u n d T a k e s off l i k e a j e t e n g i n e , t h e m a c h i n e G o n e haywire, a tearing, an electric T e m p e s t . T h e n a stitch of silence. S o m e t h i n g has b e e n lost, t h e v o i c e r e s u m e s Quietly now, ' T h e locks F o r c e d u p w a r d , a shift of air P u l l e d o v e r t h e h e a d . T h e face b e n t A n d the eyes w i n c e d , like craning To look in the core of a furnace. T h e man unravelled B a c k to a s n a g , a d a r k t h r e a d ' . Then what happens? T h e p e r s o n disappears. F o r a t i m e h e stays c l o s e b y a n d s p e a k s In a child's voice. He is n o t seen, and Y o u m u s t l e a v e f o o d o u t for h i m , a n d b e careful W h e r e y o u t h r o w w a t e r after y o u w a s h y o u r feet. And then he is gone? H e ' s g o n e , after a w h i l e . You find this more strange than the yearly miracle Of the loaf turning into a child? W e l l , t h a t ' s n a t u r a l , s h e says, I o f t e n b a k e d t h e b r e a d for t h a t myself.

T H E REAL T H I N G T h e H o o k o f F.xits, m i r a c u l o u s l y c o p i e d I l e r e in (Ins c o n v e n t by an a n g e l ' s h a n d , Stands o p e n on a lectern, g r o o v e d I i k e t h e breast <>i i m a r t y r e d d e a c o n .

T h e b i s h o p has o r d e r e d t h e w i n d o w s b r i c k e d u p o n this side F a c i n g t h e fields b e y o n d t h e c i t y . Lit b y t h e g l o w f r o m t h e c l o i s t e r y a r d a t n o o n O n P a l m S u n d a y , Sister C u s t o s Exposes h e r major relic, the longest K n o w n fragment of the Brazen Serpent. T r u e stories w i n d a n d h a n g l i k e this S h u d d e r i n g l o o p w r e a t h e d o n a lapis lazuli F r a m e . S h e says, this i s t h e real t h i n g . S h e veils i t a g a i n a n d l o c k s u p . O n t h e shelves b e h i n d h e r t h e treasures are lined. T h e e p i s c o p a l seal r e p e a t s e v e r y coil, S t a m p e d o n all c l o s u r e s o f e a c h r e l i q u a r y W h e r e t h e labels r e a d : Bones Of Different Saints. Unknown.

H e r h i s t o r y is a b l a n k s h e e t , H e r v o w s a f o l d e d p a p e r l o c k e d like a w e l l . T h e torn end of the serpent T i l t s t h e lace e d g e o f t h e v e i l . T h e real t h i n g , t h e o n e free f o o t k i c k i n g U n d e r the w h i t e sheet of history.

SAINT MARGARET OF C O R T O N A patroness of the Lock Hospital, Townsend Street, Dublin She had become, t h e p r e a c h e r h o l l o w s his v o i c e , A n a m e not to be spoken, the answer T o the w i t t y m a n ' s loose r i d d l e , what's she T h a t ' s n e i t h e r m a i d e n , w i d o w n o r wife? A p a u s e o p e n s its j a w s In the annual panegyric, T h e w o r d whore p r o w l i n g silent U p a n d d o w n t h e l o n g aisle. U n d e r the flourishing canopy
W h e r e t r i o s o f a n g e l s m i m e t h e last t r o m b o n e ,

./<

B e h i n d t h e silver c o m m a s o f t h e s h r i n e , I n t h e m i n e o f t h e altar h e r t e e t h listen a n d s m i l e . S h e is still h e r e , s h e refuses To be consumed. T h e weight of her bones Burns d o w n through the mountain. H e r d e a t h d i d n o t m a k e h e r like t h i s ; H e r eyes w e r e h o l l o w e d By the bloody scene: the w o u n d s In t h e b o d y of h e r child's father T u m b l e d in a ditch. T h e d o o r was locked, T h e n a m e s f l e w a n d multiplied; she t u r n e d H e r back but the names clustered and h u n g O u t of her shoulderbones Like children s w i n g i n g from a father's a r m , T h e i r t u c k e d - u p feet s k i m m i n g o v e r t h e g r o u n d .

./I

E A V A N

B O L A N D

Born D u b l i n , 1944. B r o u g h t up in L o n d o n , w h e r e her father was Irish ambassador, and N e w York, w h e r e he represented Ireland at the United Nations. Educated at Trinity College Dublin. T a u g h t English at Trinity from 1966 to 1968. Has w o r k e d as a freelance lecturer in Ireland and the U n i t e d States. A founder of A d e n H o u s e , a p i o n e e r i n g w o m e n ' s press, she has c o m e to be regarded by a y o u n g e r and vocal generation of Irish w o m e n writers as a crucial exemplar. Boland is a prolific literary journalist and poetry reviewer, mainly for the Irish Times and PN Review (Manchester). Object Lessons: The Life of the Woman and the Poet in Our time appeared in 1995. Boland's earlier w o r k is alert to crosscurrents in international poetry, w h i c h it accommodates s o m e w h a t dutifully to an Irish context. T h e situation of w o m e n emerges as a d o m i n a n t c o n c e r n in In Her Own Image (1975) and Night Feed (1982). An increasingly politicised approach to this t h e m e is accompanied from the mid-1980s by a g r o w i n g complexii\ of lyric form and a striking n e w authority in Boland's handling of the poetic line. C o m b i n i n g autobiography and history with a celebration ol the m o r e creative aspects of domesticity, the mature poetry meditates on the consolations and deceits of art. 'Anna Liffey' explicitly rehearses Boland's feminist aesthetic: the p o e m challenges the male-centred priorities of t w o key modernist texts by reappropriating the figure ol Anna Liffey/Anna Livia from Finnegans Wake and by adapting to its o w n purposes b o t h the idiom and the river m o t i f of William Carlos Williams's Paterson.

LISTEN. THIS IS T H E NOISE OF M Y T H This is the story of a m a n and w o m a n u n d e r a w i l l o w and beside a w e i r n e a r a river in a w o o d e d c l e a r i n g . T h e y are f u g i t i v e s . I n t i m a t e s o f m y t h . Fictions of my purpose. I suppose I s h o u l d n ' t say t h a t y e t or at least

b e f o r e I b r e a k t h e i r h e a r t s o r save t h e i r lives I o u g h t to tell t h e i r s t o r y a n d I w i l l . W h e n t h e y w e n t first i t w a s w i n t e r ; c o l d , c o l d t h r o u g h t h e M i d l a n d s a n d a s far W e s t as they could go. T h e y k n e w they had to go through Meath, Westmeath, Longford, t h e i r lives u n r a v e l l i n g l i k e t h e h o u r s o f l i g h t and then there were lambs u n d e r the s n o w and it was January, aconite and jasmine and t h e hazel y e l l o w i n g and p u c e berries on t h e T h e y c o u l d n o t eat w h e r e t h e y h a d c o o k e d , n o r sleep w h e r e t h e y had eaten n o r a t d a w n rest w h e r e t h e y h a d slept. T h e y s h u n n e d the densities o f t r e e s w i t h o n e t r u n k a n d o f caves with o n e dark and the dangerous e m b r a c e o f islands w i t h a single l a n d i n g p l a c e . A n d all t h e t i m e i t w a s c o l d , c o l d : t h e fields still g a r d e n e d b y t h e i r i c e , the trees stitched w i t h s n o w overnight, t h e d i t c h e s full; frost t o u g h e n i n g l i c h e n , d a r n i n g lace i n t o r o c k c r e v i c e s . A n d then the w o o d s flooded and buds blunted from the chestnut and the foxglove p u t its b i g leaves o u t a n d c h a f f i n c h e s c h i n k e d a n d f l i r t e d i n t h e b r a n c h e s o f t h e ash. A n d h e r e w e are w h e r e w e s t a r t e d f r o m u n d e r a willow and beside a weir n e a r a r i v e r in a w o o d e d c l e a r i n g . T h e w o m a n a n d t h e m a n h a v e c o m e t o rest. l o o k h o w light i s c o i n i n g t h r o u g h t h e ash. T h e w e i r sluices k i n g f i s h e r b l u e s .

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T h e w o m a n and the w i l l o w tree lean forward, forward. S o m e t h i n g is near; s o m e t h i n g is about to h a p p e n ; something m o r e than Spring a n d less t h a n h i s t o r y . W i l l w e see h u n g e r s e a s e d after m o n t h s o f h i d i n g ? Is t h e r e a t o u c h of h e a t in t h a t light? I f t h e y stay h e r e s o o n i t w i l l b e s u m m e r ; t h i n g s returning, sunlight fingering m i n n o w y deeps, s e e d y g r e e n s , r e e d s , e l e c t i n g lights and edges from the river. C o n s i d e r l e g e n d , s e l f - d e c e p t i o n , sin, t h e s u m o f h u m a n p u r p o s e a n d its e n d ; r e m e m b e r h o w o u r poetry d e p e n d s o n distance, aspect: gravity will b e n d starlight. F o r g i v e m e i f I set t h e t r u t h t o r i g h t s . B e a r w i t h m e i f I p u t a n e n d t o this: she n e v e r t u r n e d t o h i m ; she n e v e r l e a n e d under the sallow-willow over to him. T h e y never made love; not there; not here; not anywhere; there was no winter j o u r n e y ; no aconite, no birdsong and no jasmine, no woodland and no river and no weir. Listen. T h i s is the noise of m y t h . It m a k e s t h e s a m e s o u n d a s s h a d o w . C a n y o u h e a r it? D a y l i g h t greys in t h e preceptories. H e r head begins to shine p i v o t i n g the planets of a harsh nativity. T h e y were never mine. This is mine. T h i s s e q u e n c e o f e v i c t e d possibilities. D i s p l a c e d facts. T r i c k s o f l i g h t . R e f l e c t i o n s . I n v e n t i o n . L e g e n d . M y t h . W h a t y o u will. T h e shifts a n d f l u e n c i e s are i n f i n i t e .

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T h e m o v i n g parts are m a r v e l l o u s . C o n s i d e r h o w the b e r e a v e m e n t s o f t h e definite are easily lifted f r o m o u r h e r o i n e . She m a y or she m a y not. She was or w a s n ' t b y t h e w a t e r a t his side a s d a r k waited above the Western countryside. O c o n s o l a t i o n s of t h e craft. H o w we put the old poultices on the old sores, the same mirrors to the old magic. L o o k . T h e s c e n e r e t u r n s . T h e w i l l o w sees itself drowning in the weir and the w o m a n gives t h e kiss o f m y t h h e r h u m a n h e a t . Reflections. Reflections. He b e c o m e s her lover. T h e o l d r o m a n c e s m a k e n o b o n e s a b o u t it. T h e l o n g a n d s h o r t o f it. T h e e n d a n d t h e b e g i n n i n g . T h e g l o r i e s a n d t h e o r n a m e n t s are m u t e d . A n d w h e n the story ends the song is over.

F O N D MEMORY I t w a s a s c h o o l w h e r e all t h e c h i l d r e n w o r e d a r n e d w o r s t e d ; w h e r e t h e y c r i e d - o r a l m o s t all - w h e n t h e R e v e r e n d M o t h e r a n n o u n c e d at l u n c h - t i m e that the K i n g had died peacefully in his s l e e p . I d r e s s e d in w o o l as w e l l , ate r a t i o n e d f o o d , p l a y e d E n g l i s h g a m e s a n d l e a r n e d h o w wise the M a g n a Carta was, h o w hard t h e H a n o v e r i a n s h a d tried, t h e m e a s u r e a n d c o m p l e x i t y o f verse, the h u m and score of the w h o l e orchestra. At three-o-clock I caught t w o buses h o m e
W I H I C

s o m e t i m e s in t h e late a f t e r n o o n

.it a p i . n i t ) p u s h e d i n t o a c o i n c i o l t h e p l a y r o o m Illy l . i l h e i w o u l d sit d o w n a n d play t h e s l o w

273

lilts o f T o m M o o r e w h i l e I s t o o d t h e r e t r y i n g n o t to w e e p at the cigarette s m o k e stinging up f r o m b e t w e e n his fingers a n d - as m u c h as I c o u l d t h i n k I t h o u g h t this i s m y c o u n t r y , w a s , w i l l b e a g a i n , this u p w a r d - s t r a i n i n g s o n g m a d e t o b e o u r safe i n v e n t o r y o f p a i n . A n d I w a s w r o n g .

T H E BLACK LACE FAN MY M O T H E R GAVE ME I t w a s t h e first gift h e e v e r g a v e h e r , b u y i n g i t for five francs i n t h e G a l e r i e s i n p r e - w a r Paris. I t w a s stifling. A starless d r o u g h t m a d e t h e n i g h t s s t o r m y . T h e y s t a y e d i n t h e c i t y for t h e s u m m e r . T h e y m e t i n cafes. S h e w a s a l w a y s early. H e w a s l a t e . T h a t e v e n i n g h e w a s later. T h e y w r a p p e d t h e fan. H e l o o k e d a t his w a t c h . S h e l o o k e d d o w n t h e B o u l e v a r d des C a p u c i n e s . S h e o r d e r e d m o r e coffee. S h e s t o o d u p . T h e streets w e r e e m p t y i n g . T h e heat was killing. She t h o u g h t t h e distance smelled of rain a n d lightning. T h e s e are w i l d r o s e s , a p p l i q u e d o n silk b y h a n d , darkly picked, stitched boldly, quickly. T h e rest i s t o r t o i s e s h e l l a n d has t h e r e t i c e n t , c l e a r p a t i e n c e of its e l e m e n t . It is a w o r n - o u t , u n d e r w a t e r bullion and it keeps, e v e n n o w , a n i n f e r e n c e o f its v i o l a t i o n . T h e lace i s o v e r c a s t a s i f t h e w e a t h e r i t o p e n e d for a n d offset h a d e n t e r e d it. T h e past i s a n e m p t y caf t e r r a c e . A n airless d u s k b e f o r e t h u n d e r . A m a n r u n n i n g . And no way n o w to k n o w what happened then n o n e at all u n l e s s , ol c o u r s e , y o u i m p r o v i s e :
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T h e b l a c k b i r d o n this first s u l t r y m o r n i n g , i n s u m m e r , f i n d i n g b u d s , w o r m s , fruit, feels t h e h e a t . S u d d e n l y s h e p u t s o u t h e r w i n g t h e w h o l e , full, flirtatious s p a n o f it.

T H E LATIN LESSON Easter light in t h e c o n v e n t garden. T h e e u c a l y p t u s t r e e glitters i n it. A b e l l rings for t h e first class. T o d a y the Sixth B o o k of the Aeneid. A n o l d n u n calls d o w n t h e c o r r i d o r . M a n n e r s , girls. W h e r e are y o u r m a n n e r s ? Last n i g h t i n his L e n t e n talk t h e local p r i e s t a s k e d u s t o r e m e m b e r everything is put here for a p u r p o s e : e v e n e u c a l y p t u s l e a v e s are suitable for m a k i n g oil f r o m t o s t e e p w o o l i n , to s w e e t e n o u r blankets and gaberdines. M y f o r e f i n g e r c r a w l s o n t h e lines. A storm light c o m e s in from the bay. H o w beautiful the w o r d s look, h o w vagrant and strange on the page b e f o r e w e c r u s h t h e m for t h e i r f r a g r a n c e a n d crush t h e m again to discover t h e p a t h w a y t o hell a n d that t h e s e
s h a d o w s i n theil s h a d o w b o d i e s ,

chittering and m o b b i n g o n t h e far shore, signalling their h u n g e r for t h e small usefulness of a life, a r e the dead. A n d h o w b e f o r e t h e bell w i l l I hail t h e b l a c k k e e l a n d f l a t t e r t h e d a r k b o a t m a n a n d cross t h e r i v e r a n d still k e e p a civil t o n g u e in my head?

M I D N I G H T FLOWERS I go d o w n step by step. T h e h o u s e i s q u i e t , full o f t r a p p e d h e a t a n d s l e e p . I n t h e k i t c h e n e v e r y t h i n g i s still. N o t h i n g i s d i s t i n c t ; t h e r e i s n o m o o n t o s p e a k of. I c o u l d be u n d o n e e v e r y single day by p a r a d o x o r w h a t t h e y call i n t h e c o u n t r y s i d e blackthorn winter, w h e n h a i l s t o n e s c o m e w i t h t h e first a p p l e b l o s s o m . I turn a switch and the garden grows. A w h o l e s u m m e r ' s w o r k in o n e instant! I press my face to t h e glass. I c a n see s h a d o w s o f lilac, o f fuchsia; a d a r k l i k e n e s s o f b l a c k c u r r ; little c l i e n t s o f s u d d e n n e s s , h o w s u l l e n t h e y a r e a t t h e margins of the light. T h e y n e e d n o rain, t h e y h a v e n o roots. I reach o u t a h a n d ; t h e y are g o n e . W h e n I was a child a snapdragon was h e l d a n i n c h f r o m m y face. L o o k , a v o i c e said, this i s t h e c o l o u r o f y o u r hair. A n d t h e r e i t w a s , m y head, a p l i a n t j e w e l in t h e h a n d s of s o m e o n e - else-.
.7H

A N N A LIFFEY Life, t h e s t o r y g o e s , Was the daughter of Cannan, A n d c a m e to t h e plain of Kildare. She loved the flat-lands and the ditches A n d the unreachable horizon. S h e a s k e d t h a t i t b e n a m e d for h e r . T h e r i v e r t o o k its n a m e f r o m t h e l a n d . T h e l a n d t o o k its n a m e f r o m a w o m a n .

A w o m a n in the d o o r w a y of a h o u s e . A river in t h e city of h e r birth.

T h e r e , i n t h e hills a b o v e m y h o u s e , T h e river Liffey rises, is a s o u r c e . I t rises i n r u s h a n d l i n g h e a t h e r a n d Black peat and bracken and strengthens To claim t h e city it narrated. S w a n s . S t e e p falls. S m a l l t o w n s . T h e s m u d g e d air a n d b r i d g e s o f D u b l i n .

D u s k is c o m i n g . R a i n i s m o v i n g east f r o m t h e hills. If I c o u l d s e e m y s e l f I w o u l d see A w o m a n in a d o o r w a y W e a r i n g t h e colours that g o w i t h red hair. A l t h o u g h my hair is no longer red.

I praise T h e gifts o f t h e r i v e r . Its shiftless a n d g l i t t e r i n g R e - t e l l i n g of a c i t y , Its clarity as it f l o w s , In the c o m p a n y of r u n t flowers and h e r o n s , A r o u n d a b e n d at Islandbridge A n d u n d e r t h i r t e e n b r i d g e s t o t h e sea. Its p a t i e n c e at t w i l i g h t S w a n s n e s t i n g b y it, N e o n w i n c i n g i n t o it.

Maker of Places, r e m e m b r a n c e s , N a r r a t e s u c h f r a g m e n t s for m e : O n e b o d y . O n e spirit O n e place. O n e n a m e . T h e city w h e r e I w a s b o r n . T h e r i v e r t h a t r u n s t h r o u g h it. T h e nation w h i c h eludes m e . F r a c t i o n s of a life I t has t a k e n m e a l i f e t i m e T o claim.

I c a m e h e r e in a c o l d w i n t e r . I had no children. No country. I d i d n o t k n o w t h e n a m e for m y o w n life. My country took hold of me. My children w e r e born. I w a l k e d o u t in a s u m m e r dusk T o call t h e m i n .

.'Hi I

O n e name. T h e n the other one. T h e beautiful v o w e l s s o u n d i n g o u t h o m e .

M a k e o f a n a t i o n w h a t y o u will M a k e o f t h e past W h a t you can T h e r e is n o w A w o m a n in a d o o r w a y . I t has t a k e n m e All m y s t r e n g t h t o d o t h i s . B e c o m i n g a f i g u r e in a p o e m . Usurping a name and a theme.

A r i v e r is n o t a w o m a n . A l t h o u g h t h e n a m e s i t finds, T h e history it makes A n d suffers T h e V i k i n g b l a d e s b e s i d e it, T h e muskets of the Redcoats, T h e flames o f t h e F o u r C o u r t s Blazing into it A r e a sign. Any more than A w o m a n is a river, A l t h o u g h the course it takes, T h r o u g h swans courting and distraught willows, Its p a t i e n c e W h i c h is also its p o w e r l e s s n e s s , F r o m Callary to Islandbridge, A n d from source t o m o u t h . Is a n o t h e r o n e . A n d m my late forties
'HI

Past b e l i e v i n g L o v e will heal W h a t l a n g u a g e fails t o k n o w A n d n e e d s t o say W h a t the body means I t a k e this sign A n d I m a k e this m a r k : A w o m a n in the d o o r w a y of her house. A river in t h e city of h e r birth. T h e t r u t h o f a suffered life. T h e m o u t h o f it.

T h e seabirds c o m e i n f r o m t h e coast T h e city w i s d o m is t h e y b r i n g rain. I watch t h e m from my d o o r w a y . I s e e t h e m as a r g u m e n t s of o r i g i n Leaving a harsh force on the h o r i z o n O n l y t o find i t S l a n t i n g a n d falling e l s e w h e r e . W h i c h water T h e o n e they leave o r the o n e they p r o n o u n c e R e m e m b e r s the other? I am s u r e T h e body of an ageing w o m a n Is a m e m o r y A n d t o find a l a n g u a g e for i t Is as h a r d As weeping and requiring T h e s e birds to cry o u t as if they c o u l d Recognize their element R e m e m b e r e d and diminished in A single t e a r .

A n ageing w o m a n Finds no shelter in language. S h e Finds i n s t e a d Single w o r d s she o n c e l o v e d Such as ' s u m m e r ' and 'yellow' A n d 'sexual' and 'ready' Have suddenly b e c o m e dwellings F o r s o m e o n e else R o o m s a n d a r o o f u n d e r w h i c h s o m e o n e else Is w e l c o m e , not her. Tell m e , A n n a Liffey, Spirit o f w a t e r , Spirit o f p l a c e , H o w i s i t o n this Rainy A u t u m n night As t h e Irish sea t a k e s T h e names you made, the names Y o u b e s t o w e d , a n d gives y o u back O n l y wordlessness?

A u t u m n rain is Scattering and dripping F r o m car-ports A n d clipped hedges. T h e g u t t e r s a r e full. W h e n I came here I had neither Children nor country. T h e trees w e r e arms. T h e hills w e r e d r e a m s . I w a s free T o i m a g i n e a spirit In the blues and greens, The hills a n d fogs ( )l a small city.

My children were born. My country took hold of me. A v i s i o n in a b r i c k h o u s e . Is it o n l y l o v e T h a t m a k e s a place? I feel it c h a n g e . M y c h i l d r e n are G r o w i n g up, getting older. M y country holds o n T o its o w n p a i n . I t u r n off T h e harsh y e l l o w P o r c h light and S t a n d i n t h e hall. W h e r e is h o m e now? F o l l o w t h e rain O u t t o t h e D u b l i n hills. Let it b e c o m e the river. L e t t h e spirit o f p l a c e b e A lost s o u l a g a i n .

In t h e e n d It will n o t m a t t e r T h a t I w a s a w o m a n . I am s u r e of it. T h e body is a source. N o t h i n g m o r e . T h e r e is a t i m e for it. T h e r e is a c e r t a i n t y A b o u t t h e w a y i t s e e k s its o w n d i s s o l u t i o n . Consider rivers. T h e y are a l w a y s e n r o u t e t o T h e i r o w n n o t h i n g n e s s . F r o m t h e first m o m e n t T h e y are g o i n g h o m e . A n d s o W h e n l a n g u a g e c a n n o t d o i t for u s , C a n n o t m a k e u s k n o w l o v e will n o t d i m i n i s h u s . T h e r e are t h e s e p h r a s e s Of the ocean
.'HI

T o c o n s o l e us. Particular and unafraid of their c o m p l e t i o n . In t h e e n d Everything that b u r d e n e d and distinguished W i l l b e lost i n this: I was a voice.

P A U L

D U R C A N

B o r n Dublin, of C o u n t y M a y o parents, 1944. Educated at Gonzag .i College and University College C o r k . A full-time p o e t and a gifted reader, he has performed his w o r k for audiences in m a n y countries Has collaborated with o t h e r Irish artists, notably the rock singei Van Morrison and the traditional musician and composer Mchel Silleabhin. Crazy About Women (1991) and Civc Me Your Hand (1994), t w o books of p o e m s with facing pictorial reproductions, w e r e written in response to paintings in the National Galleries of Ireland and England respectively. T h e twin and perhaps contradictory assumptions that poetry is a sacred calling and that it should be accessible to everybody lie at the heart ol Durcan's w o r k . His assiduous populism denied him serious critical attention until the appearance in 1985 of Tlie Berlin Wall Caf. T h e comic pathos of the title sequence's anatomy of the poet's dying marriage revealed an imagination as exultantly responsive to personal disorder as Sylvia Plath's or J o h n Berryman's. Like those American poets, D u r c a n is at his most inventive w h e n his materials threaten to o v e r w h e l m h i m . (Daddy, Daddy [1990] has an even m o r e powerful and m u c h longer title sequence, but its narrative of the poet's relationship with his father does not lend itself to selection.) T h e delight in incongruity w h i c h enlivens the cartoon-like political satire of the earln i w o r k is perhaps s h o w n to best advantage in the recent poems about paintings, such as ' T h e Levite and His C o n c u b i n e at Gibeah' (based on the w o r k of that n a m e by Jan Victors). His ear for colloquial speei h vindicates Durcan's belief that poetry must g r o w out of ordinary life \ distrust of systems and a c o n c e r n for their victims gives an unabashedly R o m a n t i c , antinomian character to his writing. M a n y of Durcan's inn I vivid characterisations are w o m e n , like the protagonist o f ' T h e I lauln i Wife Meets Jesus on the Road N e a r M o o n e ' , arguably the strongest feminist p o e m yet written in Ireland.

T H E H A T FACTORY Eleven o'clock and the bar is e m p t y E x c e p t t o r inysell and a n o l d m a n ;

W e sit w i t h o u r b a c k s t o t h e s t r e e t - w i n d o w , T h e s u n i n t h e east s t r e a m i n g t h r o u g h it; And I think of childhood and s w i m m i n g U n d e r w a t e r by a famine pier; T h e ashlar c o u r s i n g o f t h e s t o n e w o r k Like t h e b a r - r o o m s h e l v e s S e e n t h r o u g h tidal a m b e r s e a w e e d In the antique mirror; N o w myself and the old m a n floating I n t h e g l o w o f t h e early m o r n i n g s u n T w i n e d r o u n d each other and o u r newspapers; A n d o u r p i n t glasses like capstans o n t h e p i e r . W e d o n o t r e a d o u r daily c h a r t e r s Charters of liberty to k n o w what's going on B u t h o l d t h e m a s capes b e f o r e reality's b u l l A n d w i t h g r a c e o f ease w e m a k e o u r passes; E l C o r d o b e s m i g h t e n v y this o l d small m a n F o r t h e s w e e t v e r o n i c a s h e m a k e s i n daily life. He is the recipient of an old-age pension W h i l e I a m t h a t l o w i n s o c i e t y ' s scale I do n o t rate the dole But I am at peace w i t h myself a n d so is h e ; Although I do not k n o w what he is thinking H i s small r o u n d fragile n o b l e m o u t h Has the l o o k of the d o o r of Aladdin's cave Q u i v e r i n g in expectation of the magic words; O p e n sesame; I s u s p e c t t h a t like m e h e i s t h i n k i n g ()f the nothing-in-particular; Myself, I a m t h i n k i n g o f t h e local h a t f a c t o r y , ( ) f its h i s t o r y a n d t h e e e r i e fact T h a t i n m y small t o w n I h a v e n e v e r k n o w n Anyone w h o worked in it ( ) r h a d t o d o w i t h i t a t all; As a child I used l o o k t h r o u g h a hole in t h e h e d g e A t t h e h a t factory d o w n b e l o w i n t h e v a l l e y ; I used lie f l a t o n m y face i n t h e l o n g grass A n d put out my head t h r o u g h the hole; I lad t h e h a t t e r s l o o k e d o u t t h r o u g h t h e i r p o r t h o l e w i n d o w s r h c y w o u l d have- seen h i g h u p i n t h e hillside A Ion)-, wild h e d g e r o w b r o k e n o n l y

By the head of the child l o o k i n g o u t t h r o u g h the hole; I speculate; A n d a s t o w h a t k i n d o f hats t h e y m a k e ; A n d do t h e y have a range in black birettas; A n d do they have a c o n v e y o r belt of toppers; A n d d o t h e w o r k e r s g e t free hats? A n d I recall t h e P o p e ' s s k u l l - c a p Placed on my head w h e n as a boy-child In a c i t y h o s p i t a l I lay n e a r to d e a t h A n d the black h o m b u r g o f the r e d - n o s e d u n d e r t a k e r A n d t h e balaclavas o f assassins A n d t h e p i x i e s o f t h e lost c h i l d r e n o f t h e m u r d e r e d e a r t h A n d the multicoloured yamulka of the wandering J e w A n d t h e black kippa o f m y A m e r i c a n friend In Jerusalem in the s n o w A n d t h e p o r t l y E g y p t i a n ' s t i n y fez A n d t h e t r a g i c B e d o u i n ' s kefia i n t h e sands o f s u n A n d the m o n k ' s cowl and the nun's wimple A n d the funereal mortarboards of airborn puritans A n d t h e m e g a l i t h i c coifs o f t h e p a n c a k e w o m e n o f B r i t t a n y A n d t h e sleek f e d o r a s o f w e l l - t o - d o t h u g s A n d sadistic s q u i r e s ' N a p o l e o n i c t r i c o r n s A n d prancing horse-cavalry in their cruel shakos A n d the heroic lifeboatman's black s o u ' w e s t e r A n d t h e nicotine-stained w i g o f the curly-haired barrister A n d the black busby used as a h a n d b a g by my laughing brothei A n d t h e silken t u r b a n o f t h e h i g h b r o w w i d o w A n d foreign legionaries in nullah kepis A n d M a y D a y presidiums i n astrakhans A n d b o n n e t s a n d boaters a n d s o m b r e r o s and stetsons A n d stove-pipes and steeples a n d mantillas and berets A n d topis and sunhats and deerstalkers and pill-boxes And naughty grandmothers in toques A n d bishops' mitres and soldiers' helmets; A n d i n L a n g u e d o c a n d i n A r a n - c l o t h caps. A n d w h a t if you were a hatter A n d you married a hatter A n d all y o u r s o n s a n d d a u g h t e r s w o r k e d a s h a t t e r s A n d y o u i n h a b i t e d a h a t - h o u s e all full o f hats: H a t s , h a t s , h a t s , hats. H a t s : t h e a p o t h e o s i s o f a n a n c i e n t craft;
.>HH

A n d I t h i n k o f all t h e n a t i o n a l i t i e s o f Israel A n d o f h o w e a c h a l w a y s clings t o his n a t i v e h a t , H i s priceless a n d m o v e a b l e roof, H i s hat w h i c h i s t h e last a n d first s y m b o l O f a m a n ' s s l e n d e r f o o t h o l d o n this e a r t h . W o m e n a n d girls also w o r k i n t h e f a c t o r y B u t n o t m a n y o f t h e m w e a r hats; S o m e w e a r scarves, b u t rarely hats; N o w there'll b e n o m o r e courting o f maidens I n s c h o o n e r hats o n d a n g e r o u s cliffs; It seems part of t h e slavery of liberation T o e m p t y r e l a t i o n s h i p s o f all c o u r t s h i p O f w h i c h hats w e r e a n e x c i t i n g part. P r o b a b l y , I shall n e v e r w e a r a h a t : S o t h u s I ask t h e o l d m a n If I m a y l o o k at his t r i l b y O l d honesty A n d graciously h e hands i t t o m e A n d w i t h surprise I n o t e that it was m a n u f a c t u r e d I n t h e local h a t f a c t o r y A n d I h a n d it back to h i m A c r o w n to its k i n g A n d like a k i n g h e blesses m e w h e n h e g o e s , W i s h i n g m e a g o o d d a y b e f o r e h e starts H i s frail p r o g r e s s h o m e a l o n g t h e s t r e e t s , A l o n g t h e lanes a n d terraces of t h e hillside, T o his o n e u p a n d o n e d o w n . I t u r n a b o u t a n d see O v e r the w i n d o w p a n e ' s frosted h e m i s p h e r e A small b l a c k h a t sail s l o w l y past m y e y e s Into the u n k n o w n ocean of the sun at n o o n .

IIFLLYNOE: T E T E - A - T E T E IN T H E PARISH PRIEST'S PARLOUR

'All, he was a grand m a n . ' ' I l c w a s : h e fell o u t o f t h e t r a i n g o i n g t o S l i g o . ' I lc did: he thought he was g o i n g to the lavatory.' I lc d i d ; m f.K t lie s t e p p e d o u t t h e r e a r d o o r of t h e t r a m ' 28V

' H e did: G o d , h e m u s t h a v e g o t a n awful fright.' ' H e d i d : h e s a w t h a t i t w a s n ' t t h e l a v a t o r y a t all.' ' H e did: he saw that it was t h e railway tracks g o i n g away from him.' ' H e d i d : I w o n d e r if. . . b u t he w a s a g r a n d m a n . ' ' H e was: h e had t h e m o s t expensive T o y o t a y o u can b u y , ' ' H e had: well, it was only beautiful.' 'It was: he used to have an A u d i . ' ' H e h a d : a s a m a t t e r o f fact h e u s e d t o h a v e t w o A u d i s . ' ' H e had: and t h e n he had an A v e n g e r . ' ' H e had: and t h e n he had a V o l v o . ' ' H e had: in the b e g i n n i n g he had a lot of Volkses.' ' H e h a d : h e w a s a g r e a t m a n for t h e V o l k s e s . ' ' H e was: did he o n c e have an Escort?' ' H e had not: he had a son a doctor.' ' H e had: and he had a Morris M i n o r t o o . ' ' H e h a d : h e h a d a sister a h a i r d r e s s e r i n K i l m a l l o c k . ' ' H e h a d : h e h a d a n o t h e r sister a h a i r d r e s s e r i n B a l l y b u n i o n . ' ' H e h a d : h e w a s p u t i n a coffin w h i c h w a s p u t i n his f a t h e r ' s cart.' ' H e w a s : his l a d y w i f e sat o n t o p o f t h e coffin d r i v i n g t h e donkey.' 'She did: A h , b u t he was a grand m a n . ' ' H e was: he was a grand m a n ' G o o d night, Father.' ' G o o d night, Mary.'

T H E HAULIER'S WIFE MEETS JESUS ON T H E ROAD NEAR M O O N I I live i n t h e t o w n o f C a h i r In the Glen of Aherlow, N o t far f r o m P e e k a u n In the townland of T o u r e e n , At the foot of Galtee M r In the C o u n t y of Tipperary. I a m t h i r t y - t h r e e years o l d , In the prime of my w o m a n h o o d : T h e m o u n t a i n s t r e a m o f m y sex I n spate a n d d a r k l y f o a m i n g ; T h e w h i t e lulls o l m y breasts
."Jo

Brimful and breathing; T h e tall t r e e s o f m y e y e s S c r e e n i n g b l u e skies; Y e t in each palm of my h a n d A s h e a f of fallen h e a d s t o n e s . W h e n I stand in profile Before my b e d r o o m mirror W i t h m y h a n d s o n m y h i p s i n m y slip, Proud of my body, Unashamed of my pride, I a p p e a r to m y s e l f a n a k e d s t r a n g e r , A w o m a n w h o m I do not k n o w E x c e p t fictionally i n t h e l o o k i n g - g l a s s , Q u i t e dramatically beautiful. Y e t i n m y s o u l I y e a r n for affection, M y s o u l i s e m p t y for t h e w a n t o f a f f e c t i o n . I am m a r r i e d to a h a u l i e r , A popular and a wealthy man, An alcoholic and a c o u n t y councillor, Father with me of four sons, By r e p u t e a sensitive m a n a n d he is Except w h e n he makes love to me: H e t a k e s l e a v e o f his senses, H a n d l i n g me as if I w e r e a sack of g r a v e l Or a carnival d u m m y , A fruit m a c h i n e or a d o d g e m . He m a k e s love to me a b o u t t w i c e a year; T h e r e a f t e r h e d o e s n o t s p e a k t o m e for w e e k s , S o m e t i m e s n o t for m o n t h s . O n e night in Cruise's Hotel in Limerick I w h i s p e r e d t o h i m : P l e a s e take m e . ( W e h a d b e e n m a r r i e d five y e a r s A n d w e had t w o children.) C h r i s t , d o y o u k n o w w h a t h e said? W h e r e ? W h e r e do you w a n t me to take you? A n d h e r o l l e d o v e r a n d fell a s l e e p , T a n k e d up w i t h seventeen pints of beer. W e live i n a G e o r g i a n , T u d o r , Classical G r e e k , M o o r i s h , Spanish 1 lacienda, R e g e n c y P e r i o d , Ranch I l o u s e , Three-Storey Bungalow
< )n t h e e d g e < > l t h e e d g e <>i t o w n

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'Poor Joe's R o w ' T h e t o w n s p e o p l e call it, B u t o u r real a d d r e s s i s ' R o n a l d R e a g a n H i l l ' T h a t v u l t u r o u s - l o o k i n g m a n i n t h e States. W e ' r e about twelve miles from Ballyporeen O r , a s t h e v u l t u r e flies, a b o u t e i g h t m i l e s . After a m o n t h or t w o of silence H e says t o m e : W i f e , I ' m s o r r y ; I k n o w that we should be separated, Annulled or whatever, B u t o n a c c o u n t o f the clients a n d t h e n e i g h b o u r s , N o t to m e n t i o n the children, it is plain A s a pikestaff w e are g l u e d t o o n e a n o t h e r U n t i l death do us part. W h y d o n ' t y o u treat yourself To a w e e k e n d up in Dublin, A night o u t at t h e theatre: I'll p a y for t h e w h o l e s h a g g i n g l o t . T h e r e was a play on at t h e t i m e In the Abbey T h e a t r e in Dublin C a l l e d Tfte Gigli Concert, A n d , because I liked the n a m e B u t also b e c a u s e i t s t a r r e d My favourite actor, T o m H i c k e y I telephoned the A b b e y from Cahir. T h e y h a d b u t o n e v a c a n t seat left! I w a s so t h r i l l e d w i t h myself, A n d at the prospect of T o m Hickey In a p l a y called The Gigli Concert ( S u c h a e u p h o n i o u s n a m e for a p l a y , I t h o u g h t ) , T h a t o n e w e t day I drove over to C l o n m e l A n d I w e n t w i l d , a n d I b o u g h t a w h o l e n e w outfit I a m n o t o n e b i t afraid t o say T h a t I s p e n t all o f / J 2 0 0 o n i t ( N o t , o f c o u r s e , that T o m H i c k e y w o u l d see m e B u t I'd b e seeing myself seeing T o m H i c k e y W h i c h w o u l d be almost, if not quite, T h e very next best thing): A l o n g , t i g h t - f i t t i n g , black skirt Of Chinese silk.

W i t h m a t c h i n g black j a c k e t A n d lace-frilled, p e a r l - w h i t e b l o u s e ; B l a c k fishnet s t o c k i n g s w i t h s e q u i n s ; Black stiletto h i g h - h e e l e d shoes O f p u r e ostrich leather. I t h o u g h t to m y s e l f - s u b c o n s c i o u s l y , of c o u r s e If I d o n ' t t r a n s p o s e to be s o m e b o d y ' s femme fatale I t w o n ' t a n y h o w b e for t h e w a n t o f t r y i n g . Driving up to Dublin I began to daydream A n d either at Horse & J o c k e y or Abbeyleix I t o o k a w r o n g turn and w i t h i n a quarter of an h o u r I k n e w I w a s lost. I s t o p p e d t h e car A n d I a s k e d t h e first m a n I s a w o n t h e r o a d For directions: ' F o l l o w m e ' - h e said - ' m y n a m e i s J e s u s : H a v e n o fear o f m e - I a m a t r a v e l l i n g a c t o r . W e ' l l have a drink together in the nearby inn.' It turned out we w e r e on the road near M o o n e . (Have y o u ever b e e n to the Cross at M o o n e ? O n c e my children and I had a picnic at M o o n e W h e n t h e y w e r e little a n d w e w e r e o n o n e O f o u r Flight into Egypt jaunts t o D u b l i n . T h e y ran r o u n d the H i g h Cross r o u n d and r o u n d A s i f i t w e r e a m a y p o l e , w h i c h m a y b e i t is: F i g u r e c a r v i n g s o f l o a v e s a n d fishes, l i o n s a n d d o l p h i n s . I d r a n k b l a c k coffee f r o m a t h e r m o s flask A n d the children drank red lemonade A n d t h e y w e r e w e a r i n g b l u e duffle c o a t s w i t h r e d scarves A n d t h e i r small, r o u n d , l a u g h i n g , f r e c k l e d faces L o o k e d p o i n t e d l y like t h e faces o f t h e t w e l v e a p o s t l e s Gazing out at us from the plinth of the Cross Across a t h o u s a n d years. O n l y , o f c o u r s e , t h e i r f a t h e r w a s n o t w i t h us: H e w a s b u s y - b u s y b e i n g o u r family e u p h e m i s m . E v e r y family i n I r e l a n d has its o w n f a m i l y e u p h e m i s m Like a h e r a l d i c d e v i c e or a c o a t of a r m s . ) Jesus t u r n e d out to be a lovely m a n , All that a w o m a n c o u l d e v e r possibly d r e a m of: ( i e n t l e , w i l d , s o l i - s p o k e n , c o u r t e o u s , sad; Angular, awkward, candid, methodical;

H u m o r o u s , passionate, angry, kind; Entirely sensitive to a w o m a n ' s w o r l d . Discreetly I invited Jesus to s p e n d the night w i t h me Stay w i t h m e , t h e d a y i s a l m o s t o v e r a n d i t i s g e t t i n g d a r k B u t h e w a v e d m e aside w i t h o n e w a v e o f his h a n d , N o t contemptuously, but compassionately. ' O u r night will c o m e , ' h e smiled, A n d he resumed chatting about my children, All c u r i o s i t y for t h e i r w e l f a r e a n d w e l l - b e i n g . I t w a s l i k e a fire b u r n i n g i n m e w h e n h e t a l k e d t o m e . T h e r e w a s o n l y o n e m a t t e r I felt g u i l t y a b o u t A n d t h a t w a s m y e m p t y v a c a n t seat i n t h e A b b e y . A t c l o s i n g t i m e h e kissed m e o n b o t h c h e e k s A n d we bade o n e another goodbye and then J u s t as I h a d all b u t g i v e n up h o p e H e kissed m e full o n t h e m o u t h , M y m o u t h w e t w i t h alizarin lipstick ( A t u b e o f G u e r l a i n 4 w h i c h I ' v e h a d for t w e l v e y e a r s ) . As I drove on into Dublin to the Shelbourne Hotel I k e p t h e a r i n g his M i d l a n d s v o i c e S a y i n g t o m e o v e r a n d o v e r , across t h e G a r d e n o f G e t h s e m a n e O u r n i g h t will c o m e . Back in the t o w n of Cahir, In the Glen of Aherlow, N o t far f r o m P e e k a u n In the townland of T o u r e e n , At the foot of Galtee M r In the C o u n t y of Tipperary, F o r t h e sake o f s o m e t h i n g t o say I n f r o n t o f o u r f o u r sons M y h u s b a n d said t o m e : W e l l , w h a t w a s B e n j a m i n o G i g l i like? O h , 'twas a p h e n o m e n a l concert! A n d w h a t w a s T o m H i c k e y like? Miraculous - I whispered - miraculous. O u r n i g h t will c o m e - h e h a d s m i l e d - o u r n i g h t will c o m e .

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A R O U N D T H E C O R N E R FROM FRANCIS BACON A r o u n d the corner from Francis B a c o n W a s w h e r e w e m a d e o u r first n e s t t o g e t h e r O n the waters o f the flood; W h e r e w e first l i v e d i n sin: T h e s u n n i e s t , m o s t v i r t u o u s days o f o u r life. N o t e v e n t h e pastoral squalor o f C l a p h a m C o m m o n , N o r t h e g h e t t o life o f N o t t i n g H i l l G a t e , N o r t h e racial d r a m a o f B a r c e l o n a , N o r t h e cliffhanging b o u r g e o i s life o f C o r k C i t y C o u l d e v e r e q u a l t h o s e initial, p r i m e v a l t i m e s t o g e t h e r L i v i n g i n sin In the halcyon ambience of South Kensington, A h a v e n for p e a c e f u l r e v o l u t i o n a r i e s s u c h a s H a r r i e t W a u g h O r Francis B a c o n , o r ourselves. I slept o n a n i r o n i n g b o a r d i n t h e k i t c h e n A n d y o u slept i n t h e a t t i c : L a t e a t n i g h t w h e n all t h e o t h e r f l a t - d w e l l e r s W e r e a b e d and - we t h o u g h t wishfully - asleep, Y o u c r e p t d o w n t h e attic l a d d e r T o m a k e love with m e o n the ironing board, A s i f w e h a d k n o w n e a c h o t h e r i n a p r e v i o u s life So waterily did o u r t w o b o d y - p h o n e s attune, U n d e r w a t e r s w i m m i n g face t o face i n t h e d a r k , F r a n c i s B a c o n - C i m a b u e style. M y b o d y - p h o n e was m a d e i n D u b l i n But y o u r b o d y - p h o n e was m a d e in Japan. S t a n d i n g u p n a k e d o n t h e k i t c h e n floor, In the smog-filtered moonlight, Y o u p l a c e d y o u r h a n d o n m y little folly, m u r m u r i n g : I h a v e c o m e t o i r o n y o u , Sir B o a r d . Far from t h e tyrant liberties of D u b l i n , Ireland, W h e r e the c o m e d y of f r e e d o m was by law forbidden A n d t r u t h , since t h e f r e e d o m o f t h e State, g o n e underground W h e n y o u had finished i r o n i n g m e I felt like h o t silk q u e u i n g u p t o b e b a t h e d I I n d e r .1 waterfall in S a m a r k a n d ( )i a m o u n t a i n s t r e a m in E n n i s k e r r y . E v e r y e v e n i n g I w a i t e d for y o u t o c o m e h o m e .
N i p p i n g , o u t <>nl\ i n t h e l u s h h o u i t o t h e d c h i atcssen

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W h e r e Francis B a c o n , basket u n d e r a r m , S u r f a c i n g l i k e M r M o l e f r o m his m e w s a r o u n d t h e c o r n e r , Used be stocking up in tomato puree and curry p o w d e r B e f o r e h e a d i n g off i n t o t h e n i g h t a n d T h e C o l o n y R o o m C l u b I n t o w h o s e g r e e n d a r k y o u a n d I s o m e t i m e s also t i p t o e d . In your o w n way you w e r e equally Beatrix Potter-like, C o m i n g h o m e t o m e l a d e n w i t h fish fingers a n d b a k e d b e a n s . W h i l e I read to y o u from Dahlberg, you taught me a b o u t the psyche Of the female o r a n g - o u t a n g caged in the zoo: Coronation Street. . . Z Cars . . . The World in Action . . . T h e n Z C a r s to b e a t all Z C a r s - o u r o w n w o r l d in a c t i o n T h e baskets o f y o u r eyes c h o c k - a - b l o c k w i t h y o u r u n i q u e brands Of t o m a t o puree and curry p o w d e r ; Or, Tliat Was The Week That Was, a n d t h e n , my s l e e p i n g f r i e n d , I n t h e sandhills o f w h o s e s h o u l d e r s sloping secretly d o w n I n t o small, h o t havens o f p u r e u n s c a t h e d sands W h e r e t h e o n l y s o u n d s a r e t h e s o u n d s o f t h e sea's tidal w a t e r s Flooding backwards and forwards, T o n i g h t is t h e n i g h t t h a t a l w a y s is f o r e v e r T e n or t w e n t y minutes in the dark, A n d in four million years or so M y s t o m a c h will s w a r m again s u d d e n l y w i t h butterflies, As with your bowl of water and your towel, Y o u r c a n d l e a n d y o u r attic l a d d e r , Y o u r taut high wire and y o u r balancing pole, A green minidress over y o u r arm, a Penguin paperback in y o u r hand, I w a t c h y o u c o m i n g towards me in the twilight of rush h o u r On your hands and knees A n d o n t h e w e t , m a u v e tip o f y o u r e x t e n d e d t o n g u e T h e t w o m u l t i c o l o u r e d birds o f y o u r p l u m e d eyes ablaze A r o u n d the c o r n e r from Francis B a c o n .

from SIX N U N S DIE IN C O N V E N T INFERNO To die happy memory of six Loreto nuns who died between midnight and morning of 2 June 1986
I

We resided in a L o r e t o c o n v e n t in t h e c e n t r e of D u b l i n city O n t h e east side o f a p u b l i c g a r d e n s , S t S t e p h e n ' s G r e e n . G r a f t o n S t r e e t - t h e paseo W h e r e e v e r y b o d y paseo'd, i n c l u d i n g e v e n o u r s e l v e s D e b o u c h e d on the n o r t h side, and at the t o p of Grafton Street, O r r o u n d t h e base o f t h e g r e a t p a t r i o t i c p e b b l e o f O ' D o n o v a n Rossa, K n e l t t a b l e a u s o f p u n k girls a n d p u n k b o y s . W h e n I u s e d pass t h e m - s c u r r y i n g as I w e n t O f t e n a s n o t t o c a t c h a mass i n C l a r e n d o n S t r e e t , T h e Carmelite C h u r c h in C l a r e n d o n Street (Myself, I n e v e r u s e d t h e C l a r e n d o n S t r e e t e n t r a n c e , I always slipped in by w a y of J o h n s o n ' s C o u r t , O p p o s i t e t h e side e n t r a n c e t o B e w l e y ' s O r i e n t a l C a f ) , I c o u l d n o t h e l p b u t s m i l e , as I s u c k e d on a F o x ' s m i n t , T h a t for all t h e h a l f - s h a v e n h e a d s a n d t h e m a r t i a l g a r b A n d the d y e d hair-dos and the nappy pins T h e y l o o k e d s o c o n v e n t i o n a l , really, a n d v u l n e r a b l e , Clinging to w a r paint and to uniforms and to o n e another. I k n e w it was myself w h o was the ultimate d r o p - o u t , T h e d e l i n q u e n t , the recidivist, the v a g a b o n d , T h e wild w o m a n , the subversive, the original p u n k . Y e t , a l t h o u g h I confess I w a s s m i l i n g , I w a s also afraid, Appalled b y m y o w n nerve, m y o w n fervour, My apocalyptic enthusiasm, my other-worldly hubris: To opt out of the world and to ( lioose such exotic loneliness, S u c h terrestrial a b a n d o n m e n t , A l i f e t i m e of b i c y c l e l a m p s a n d b i c y c l e p u m p s , A lifetime of galoshes s t o w e d u n d e r t h e stairs, A l i f e t i m e of u m b r e l l a s d r y i n g o u t in t h e k i t c h e n s .

I w a s an o l d n u n - an a g e d b e a d s w o m a n B u t I was n o daw. I k n e w w h a t a w e i r d bird I was, I k n e w that w h e n we W e n t t o b e d w e w e r e a s e e r i e a n aviary a s y o u ' d find I n all t h e b l o w n - o f f r o o f t o p s o f t h e city: Scuttling about our d o r m , wheezing, shrieking, croaking, I n o u r y e l l o w y corsets, w o n k y suspenders, s t r u n g - o u t garters, A b o n y c r e w i n t h e g o d s o f t h e s l e e p i n g city. M a n y ' s t h e n i g h t I lay a w a k e i n b e d D r e a m i n g w h a t w o u l d befall u s i f t h e r e w e r e a fire: N o fire-escapes outside, n o fire-extinguishers inside; To coin a D u b l i n saying, W e ' d n o t stand a snowball's c h a n c e in hell. F a n c y that! It seemed too good to be true: H a p p y death vouchsafed only to the few. Sleeping up t h e r e was like sleeping at t h e t o p of t h e mast Of a nineteenth-century schooner, and in the daytime We old nuns were the ones w h o crawled out on the yardarms T o stitch and s e w the rigging a n d the canvas. T o b e sure w e w e r e w e i r d birds, oddballs, Christniks, For we had d o n e the weirdest thing a w o m a n can do S u r r e n d e r e d t h e m a r v e l l o u s passions o f g i r l h o o d , T h e innocent dreams of childhood, N o t for a n i g h t o r a w e e k e n d o r e v e n a L e n t o r a s e a s o n , B u t for a l i f e t i m e . N e v e r to k n o w the love of a m a n or a w o m a n ; N e v e r to have children of our o w n ; N e v e r to have a h o m e of our o w n ; All for w h y a n d for w h a t ? To follow a y o u n g m a n - w o u l d you believe it W h o lived t w o t h o u s a n d years ago i n Palestine A n d w h o died a c o m m o n criminal strung up on a tree. As we stood there in the disintegrating dormitory B u r n i n g to death in the arms of Christ O Christ, Christ, c o m e quickly, quickly Fluttering a b o u t in o u r tight, gold bodices, Beating o u r wings in vain, I t r e m i n d e d m e o f t h e snaps o n e o f t h e sisters t o o k W h e n w e t o o k a seaside h o l i d a y i n 1 9 5 6 ( T h e year Cardinal M i n d s z e n t y w e n t into hiding
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In the US legation in Budapest. He was a great h e r o of ours, Cardinal M i n d s z e n t y , A n y of us w o u l d h a v e given o u r right arm T o h a v e b e e n his n u n - d a r n i n g his s o c k s , c o o k i n g his m e a l s , M a k i n g his b e d , d o i n g his w a s h i n g a n d i r o n i n g ) . S o m e b o d y - a n affluent b u d d y o f t h e b i s h o p ' s r e p e n t i n g his affluence Loaned M o t h e r Superior a secluded beach in C o . Waterford A r d m o r e , a l o n g t h e coast from T r a m o r e A c o v e w i t h p a l m t r e e s , n o less, w e l l off t h e m a i n r o a d . T h e r e we w e r e , fluttering up and d o w n the beach, Scampering hither and thither in our starched bathing-costumes. T o n i g h t , e x p i r i n g i n t h e fire, w a s q u i t e m u c h l i k e t h a t . O n l y i n s t e a d o f s c a m p e r i n g i n t o t h e w a v e s o f t h e sea, N o w w e w e r e s c a m p e r i n g i n t o t h e f l a m e s o f t h e fire. T h a t w a s o n e o f t h e g a y e s t d a y s o f m y life, T h e d a y t h e sisters w e n t s w i m m i n g . O f t e n i n t h e silent d a r k n e s s o f t h e c h a p e l after B e n e d i c t i o n , D u r i n g the E x p o s i t i o n o f t h e Blessed S a c r a m e n t , I g l i m p s e d t h e sea a g a i n as it w a s t h a t d a y . P r a y i n g - d a y d r e a m i n g really I b e c a m e aware that Christ is the o c e a n F o r e v e r rising a n d falling o n t h e w o r l d ' s s h o r e . N o w t o n i g h t i n t h e c o n v e n t C h r i s t i s t h e fire i n w h o s e w a v e s W e are d o o m e d b u t d e l i g h t e d t o d r o w n . And, darting in and out of the flames of the dormitory, G a b r i e l , w i t h t h a t e x t r a o r d i n a r y m e s s a g e o f his o n his b o y i s h lips, F r e n e t i c a l l y p e d a l l i n g his s k y b i k e . He whispers into my ear w h a t I must do A n d I d o it - a n d d i e . E a c h o f u s i n o u r o w n t i n y , frail, f u r t i v e w a y W a s a M o t h e r of G o d , m o t h e r i n g forth illegitimate Christs I n t h e s t r e e t life o f D u b l i n c i t y . G o d h a v e m e r c y o n o u r w h i r r i n g souls W i l d w o m e n w e r e w e all A n d on the misfortunate, p o o r fire-brigade m e n W h o s e task i t will b e t o s h o v e l u p o u r ashes a n d s h o v e l W h a t is left ol us i n t o black plastic refuse sacks. Fire b r i g a d e m e n are t h e salt o f t h e e a r t h .

Isn't it a marvellous t h i n g h o w y o u r h o u r c o m e s W h e n y o u least e x p e c t it? W h e n y o u lose a t h i n g , N o t to k n o w a b o u t it until it actually happens? H o w , in so m a n y ways, losing things is such a refreshing experience, G i v i n g y o u a sense o f f r e e d o m y o u ' v e n o t o f t e n e x p e r i e n c e d ? H o w l u c k y I w a s to lose - I say, lose - lose my life. It w a s a S u n d a y n i g h t , a n d after v e s p e r s I skipped b a t h r o o m so that I c o u l d h o p straight i n t o b e d A n d g e t i n a b i t o f a r e a d b e f o r e lights o u t : C o n o r C r u i s e O ' B r i e n ' s n e w b o o k The Siege, All a b o u t Israel a n d s u p e r l a t i v e l y insightful F o r a m a n w h o t h e y say i s r e p u t e d l y a n a g n o s t i c I g o t a l o a n of it f r o m t h e b r o t h e r - i n - l a w ' s m a r r i e d n i e c e B u t I w a s t i r e d o u t a n d I fell a s l e e p w i t h t h e b o o k o p e n F a c e d o w n across m y b r e a s t a n d I w o k e T o t h e r a c k e t o f b e l l o w i n g f l a m e a n d s n a r l i n g glass. T h e first t h i n g I t h o u g h t w a s t h a t t h e b r o t h e r - i n - l a w ' s m a r r i e d n i e c e W o u l d n e v e r again get h e r C o n o r C r u i s e O ' B r i e n back A n d I had seen on t h e p r i c e - t a g that it cost 2 3 . 0 0 : S m a l l w o n d e r t h a t t h e c u s t o m o f s n i p p i n g off t h e p r i c e A s a n e x e r c i s e i n social d e p o r t m e n t has s i m p l y d i e d o u t ; I n d e e d a b o o k t o d a y i s a l m o s t w o r t h b u y i n g for its p r i c e , Its p r i c e f r e q u e n t l y b e i n g m o r e r e m a r k a b l e t h a n its c o n t e n t s . T h e strange Eucharist of my death T o b e e a t e n alive b y fire a n d s m o k e . I clasped the d r a g o n to my breast A n d s t r o k e d his r e d - h o t ears. S t r a n g e ! T h e r e w e w e r e , all s l e e p i n g m o l e c u l e s , S u d d e n l y all g i v i n g b i r t h t o o u r d e a t h s , All frantically i n l a b o u r . Doctors and midwives w e a v e d in and out I n g o w n s o f s m o k e a n d g l o v e s o f fire. C h r i s t , l i k e a n O r t h o d o x p a t r i a r c h i n his d r e s s i n g - g o w n , F l e w u p a n d d o w n t h e d o r m i t o r y , s p l a s h i n g w a t e r o n o u r souls: Sister E u c h a r i a ; Sister S e r a p h i a ; Sister R o s a r i o ; Sister G o n z a g a ; Sister M a r g a r e t ; Sister E d i t h . If y o u will r e m e m b e r us - six n u n s b u r n t to d e a t h R e m e m b e r u s for t h e frisky girls t h a t w e w e r e . N o w m o r e than ever kittens in the sun.
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T H E LATE MR CHARLES LYNCH DIGRESSES to Siabhra H a v i n g sat all m o r n i n g a t t h e b a y w i n d o w O f t h e r u n - d o w n b o a r d i n g h o u s e o n t h e b i t c h - b e d e c k e d hill O v e r l o o k i n g the d r o w n e d city o f C o r k W i t h a l o n g - s t e m m e d wine-glass balancing on the fulcrum O f his l a d y l i k e , c r o s s e d k n e e s - t h e d e c e a s e d v i r t u o s o I n t h e t h r e a d b a r e b l a c k g r e a t c o a t a n d f r a y e d w h i t e shirt Tiptoes through the urban heat A n d s c r u p u l o u s l y digresses i n t o t h e C o r k S c h o o l o f M u s i c W h e n , from n e x t d o o r ' s crucial radio studios, A production technician, Evie, comes skittering ' M r L y n c h , they necessitate y o u urgently n e x t d o o r . ' W i t h o u t a l t e r i n g t h e a d a g i o o f his gait, o r its c a n t a b i l e , T h e ghostly pianist, t h e master digresser, Perilously whispers: ' I ' m s o r r y , E v i e - b u t I ' m dashing.'

T H E LEVITE A N D HIS C O N C U B I N E AT GIBEAH A f t e r P a u l D u r c a n left his w i f e - A c t u a l l y s h e left h i m b u t it is m o r e recherche to say T h a t h e left h e r W o u l d y o u b e l i e v e i t b u t h e t u r n e d u p a t o u r villa W i t h a w o m a n w h o m we had never heard of before, M u c h less m e t . T o our villa! T h e K e r r s o f D u n d a l k ! I, Mrs Kerr, with a w i n d o w f r a m e around my neck! Y o u will n o t believe i t b u t h e actually asked m e T o p u t h i m u p for t h e n i g h t - a n d his f r i e n d A slip of a t h i n g , h a l f his a g e . I said t h a t I w o u l d b u t i n s e p a r a t e b e d r o o m s . T h i s is a family h o m e - I h a d to r e m i n d h i m . I resented having to r e m i n d him. T h e pair o f t h e m p r o c e e d e d t o s q u a t i n s i l e n c e In t h e l i v i n g r o o m l o r w h a t w.is left of t h e e v e n i n g So that I ( o u l d not e v e n s w i t c h on t h e t e l e v i s i o n . As a c o n s e q u e n c e I m i s s e d Twin Peaks.
tin

W h a t got up my nose W a s t h a t s h e sat o n t h e s t e p o f t h e fireplace O n a c u s h i o n f r o m o u r sofa t h r o w n d o w n b y h i m W i t h h e r h a n d s j o i n e d a r o u n d his k n e e s : H i m s e l f sitting in my h u s b a n d ' s armchair As if he o w n e d it - w i t h o u t so m u c h as a ' M a y I?' S h e w a s g o t u p i n a l o u d s p o k e n y e l l o w dress A n d t h o s e p r e c i o u s little h a n d s o f h e r s a r o u n d his k n e e s A s i f his k n e e s w e r e p i l l o w s ; H e r face a t e a t o w e l o f h o l y i n n o c e n c e A s i f m a r g a r i n e w o u l d n o t m e l t i n h e r tonsils. I w o u l d go so far as to say t h a t it w a s i n d e l i c a t e T h e w a y s h e h a d h e r h a n d s j o i n e d a r o u n d his k n e e s . As s o o n as I began to y a w n , he began to speak: H o l d i n g forth until three o'clock in the a.m. O n w h a t h e called his ' T h e o r y o f P e r i p e t e i a ' A d o g ' s d i n n e r o f g i b b e r i s h a b o u t t h e p h i l o s o p h i c a l significance O f ' n o t caring b e i n g the secret to transforming misfortune'. Finally I s t o o d u p a n d d e c l a r e d ' P e r i p e t e i a , G o o d n i g h t ' . I installed t h e pair of t h e m in separate b e d r o o m s . I left m y o w n b e d r o o m d o o r o p e n . I fell a s l e e p a b o u t five. W h e n I k n o c k e d h i m u p for breakfast She answered the door. I was that indignant T h a t w h e n t h e y c a m e d o w n for breakfast I g a v e t h e m p o r r i d g e - l i k e it or l u m p it. I did n o t utter o n e w o r d to t h e m U n t i l t h e y h a d finished. T h e n I t o o k h i m aside a n d I let h i m h a v e it: N o w listen t o m e P a u l D u r c a n : Y o u m a y be a p o e t and a Levite B u t y o u will n o t take advantage o f m e . Get yourself and your - your - your concubine O u t o f m y D u n d a l k villa. H o w d a r e a w o m a n w e a r a l o u d s p o k e n y e l l o w dress W h e n y o u set foot i n G i b e a h n e x t t u n e 1 )o not e v e r I ) u r c a n my d o o r s t e p again. M)2

K n o w w h a t his r e s p o n s e w a s ? T o ask m e I f h e m i g h t b o r r o w m y Shell G u i d e a n d m y d o n k e y ? T o b e r i d o f h i m I g a v e i n - m o r e fool I . H e s h i m m i e d o u t t h e d o o r s i n g i n g t o himself: ' W e b o r r o w e d t h e l o a n o f K e r r ' s b i g ass To go to Dundalk with butter K n o w w h a t h e did then? H e w e n t d o w n t o that old peasant In the lane at the e n d of the a v e n u e - K a v a n a g h W h o g o e s a b o u t t h e t o w n a l w a y s w i t h his s o c k s d o w n B e c a u s e h e u s e d play f o o t b a l l for M u c k e r - R o t t e r d a m : Kavanagh w i t h that - that ridiculous T h a t - that vulgar T h a t - t h a t gross Brass k n o c k e r o n his f r o n t d o o r .

B E R N A R D

O ' D O N O G H U E

B o r n Cullen, n o r t h - w e s t C o r k , 1945. Educated at O x f o r d University, w h e r e he lectures in medieval literature at Magdalen College. O ' D o n o g h u e is a notable critic of c o n t e m p o r a r y poetry. O ' D o n o g h u e ' s most c o n v i n c i n g lyrics disguise his sophisticated literary self-consciousness to r e n d e r aspects of rural Irish experience in a strongly idiomatic poetic language.

A N U N TAKES T H E VEIL T h a t m o r n i n g e a r l y I r a n t h r o u g h briars T o c a t c h t h e calves t h a t w e r e b o u n d for m a r k e t . I stopped the o n c e , to watch the sun R i s i n g o v e r D o o l i n across t h e w a t e r . T h e calves w e r e t e t h e r e d o u t s i d e t h e h o u s e W h i l e I h a d m y b r e a k f a s t : t h e last o n e a t h o m e F o r f o r t y y e a r s . I h a d w h a t I w a n t e d ( t h e y said I c o u l d ) , so w e ' d loaf b r e a d a n d M a r i e biscuits. W e s t r u n g t h e calves b e h i n d t h e b o a t , M e k e e p i n g c l e a r t o p r o t e c t m y style: C o n f i r m a t i o n suit a n d m y p a t e n t sandals. B u t I trailed m y fingers i n t h e c o o l g r e e n w a t e r , W a t c h i n g t h e puffins d r i v i n g h o m e w a r d T o t h e i r nests o n A r a n . O n t h e G a l w a y m a i n l a n d I t i p t o e d clear o f t h e c o w - d u n g e d s l i p w a y A n d w a t c h e d m y b r o t h e r s h e a v i n g t h e calves A s t h e y lost t h e i r f o o t i n g . W e w e n t i n a t r a p , M y s e l f a n d m y m o t h e r , a n d I said g o o d b y e T o m y f a t h e r t h e n . T h e last I s a w o f h i m W a s a h a t a n d j a c k e t a n d a salley stick.

k )4

D r i v i n g cattle to Ballyvaughan. He died (they told me) in the c o u n t y h o m e , A s k i n g t o see m e . B u t t h a t w a s later: As we trotted on t h r o u g h the m o r n i n g mist, I s a w a car for t h e first t i m e e v e r , H a r d l y seeing it before it vanished. I c o u l d n ' t b e l i e v e it, a n d I s t o o d u p l o o k i n g T o w h e r e I c o u l d h e a r its n o i s e d e p a r t i n g But it was only a glimpse. T h a t night in the c o n v e n t T h e sisters spoilt m e , b u t I c o u l d n ' t f o r g e t T h e m o r n i n g ' s v i s i o n , a n d I fell asleep W i t h the engine h u m m i n g through the open w i n d o w .

T H E WEAKNESS I t w a s t h e frosty early h o u r s w h e n finally T h e cow's despairing groans rolled h i m from b e d A n d i n t o his b o o t s , h a r d l y a w a k e y e t . H e called ' D a n ! c o m e o n , D a n ! S h e ' s c a l v i n g ' , a n d s t u m b l e d w i t h o u t his c o a t D o w n t h e icy p a t h t o t h e h a g g a r d . C a s t o r a n d P o l l u x w e r e fixed i n l i n e O v e r his h e a d b u t h e d i d n ' t see t h e m , This night any m o r e than another. H e c r o s s e d t o t h e stall, past t h e c o r n e r O f t h e fairy-fort h e ' d l e v e l l e d last M a y . B u t this t h a t s t o p p e d h i m , l i k e t h e m i n d ' s s t e p Backward: w h a t was that, m o r e insistent T h a n the calf s birth-pangs? ' H o l d o n , D a n . I think I'm having a weakness. I n e v e r had a weakness, D a n , before.' A n d d o w n h e slid, g r o p i n g for t h e lapels ( )l t h e s h o c k e d b o y ' s t w e n t y - y e a r - o l d j a c k e t .

ttr.

F R A N K

O R M S B Y

Born Enniskillen, C o u n t y Fermanagh, 1947. Educated at St Michael's College, Enniskillen, and Q u e e n ' s University Belfast. Has taught since 1971 at the Royal Belfast Academical Institution, w h e r e he is head of English. Edited the Honest Ulsterman, 1 9 6 9 - 8 9 . An influential anthologist, notably of Poets from the North of Ireland (1979; 1990) and A Rage for Order: Poetry of the Northern Ireland Troubles (1992). Precise, observant and witty, O r m s b y ' s p o e m s frequently interrogate the sense of place as a source b o t h of stability and division in N o r t h e r n Ireland.

PASSING T H E CREMATORIUM S o m e o n e is leaving t o w n as clean s m o k e T h i s s u m m e r m o r n i n g , t o o m u c h t h e drifter N o w t o let u s k n o w - e v e n i f h e c o u l d H i s d e s t i n a t i o n . W h o w a t c h e d , p e r h a p s , t h e trail O f j e t s i n skies a n o t h e r s u m m e r M a y find a l r e a d y t h a t h e ' s h a l f - w a y t h e r e ; O r t h i n n e d i n s t e a d i n t o a b l a c k e r air T h e factories m u s t e r . W h a t e v e r fate O u r l e i s u r e d t h o u g h t c o n t r i v e s t o fit his j o u r n e y Pales w i t h o u r passing; Diverts n o l o n g e r t h a n w e take t o cruise B e y o n d t h a t frail t h r e a d , s e a w a r d s , this s u m m e r m o r n i n g .

HOME O n c e , in the Giant's R i n g , I closed my eyes and t h o u g h t of Ireland, the air-wide, skin-tight, multiple meaning of here. W h e n I o p e n e d t h e m I w a s little t h e w i s e r , in that, perhaps, o n e
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w i t h t h e first settlers i n t h e L a g a n V a l l e y and the Vietnamese boat-people of P o r t a d o w n .

from A PARIS H O N E Y M O O N

L'ORANGERIE

W e h a v e f l o a t e d t o t h e surface o f M o n e t ' s p o n d this m o r n i n g i n t h e O r a n g e r i e , s o m e w h e r e a m o n g discarded b u t t o n h o l e s , bedraggled b o u q u e t s , the wreaths of d r o w n e d sorrows. Y o u r face g r o w s s e c r e t a n d l o v e l y . It is a face o f m a n y f a t h o m s i n this t i m e a n d p l a c e . I a m t h e l o v e r o p e n i n g his e y e s in mid-kiss, as t h o u g h he m i g h t surprise t h e u n i q u e swirl o f self, w h o c a t c h e s i n s t e a d , b u o y a n t a n d t i m e l e s s a n d all u n a w a r e , y o u crossing, perhaps, y o u r exact instant of death, t o o b r i m m e d w i t h love and living to yield it r o o m for this o r m a n y a y e a r - o r y o u s u b m e r g e d in the not-yet-carnate m o m e n t of giving birth. Primordial blossoms. W a t e r y nebulae. B l u r r e d , breathless features in a s p a w n y h u s h g a t h e r i n g t o w a r d s us, m i m i n g t h e kiss o f l i g h t .

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C I A R A N

C A R S O N

Born Belfast, into an Irish-speaking family, 1948. Educated at St Mary's Christian Brothers' School and Q u e e n ' s University Belfast. W o r k e d as a teacher and civil servant before being appointed Traditional Arts Officer for the Arts C o u n c i l of N o r t h e r n Ireland, a position he c o m b i n e d with that of Literature Officer in 1991. A musician as well as a poet, Carson has published The Pocket Guide to Irish Traditional Music (1986). A distrust of the facility with w h i c h he had reduplicated the m o d e r n Insh lyric in his first collection (The New Estate, 1976) kept Carson silent for m o r e than a decade. He r e t u r n e d to publication on evolving a form adequate to his suspicion of artistic closure: the circling, digressing narratives of The Irish for No (1987) draw on the traditional storytelling techniques e n c o u n t e r e d in Carson's Arts C o u n c i l w o r k to play the literary off against the vernacular in a grim relativistic c o m e d y . 'Dresden' dramatises a scepticism towards high culture and towards the mythologies alike of the militarised state and its paramilitary opponents. Carson's m e t h o d is e x t e n d e d in Belfast Confetti (1989) to offer a densely textured, b o o k - l e n g t h m a p of a city in an endless process of destruction and renewal. T h e Belfast o f ' T h e M o u t h ' , ' H a m l e t ' and o t h e r pieces is i deceptive, unpredictable place, familiar yet m i s r e m e m b e r e d , spookily normal and reassuringly surreal - a labyrinth as m u c h of mental categories and linguistic evasions as of streets. ' O v i d : Metamorphoses, V, 5 2 9 - 5 5 0 ' performs o n e of the grittier in a series of Ovidian variations by c o n t e m p o r a r y poets, After Ovid (1994). W i t h a n o d towards M a c N e i c c , 'Bagpipe Music' deploys Carson's intimacy with traditional music to ironic effect.

DRESDEN H o r s e B o y l e w a s called H o r s e B o y l e b e c a u s e o f his b r o t h e r M u l e , T h o u g h w h y M u l e w a s c a l l e d M u l e i s a n y b o d y ' s g u e s s . I stayed there once, Or rather, I nearly stayed t h e r e o n c e . B u t that's a n o t h e r story. A t a n y r a t e t h e y lived i n this d e c r e p i t c a r a v a n , n o t t w o m i l e s o u l of Carrick,

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E n c r o a c h e d u p o n b y b a r o q u e p y r a m i d s o f e m p t y b a k e d b e a n tins, rusts A n d ochres, hints of a u t u m n m e r g i n g into twilight. H o r s e believed T h e y w e r e a s g o o d a s a w a t c h d o g , a n d t o tell y o u t h e t r u t h Y o u c o u l d n ' t g o n e a r t h e p l a c e w i t h o u t s o m e t h i n g falling o v e r : A m i n o r a v a l a n c h e w o u l d e n s u e - m o r e l i k e a s h o p b e l l , really, T h e old-fashioned ones on string, c o n n e c t e d to the latch, I think, A n d as y o u e n t e r e d in, the bell w o u l d tinkle in t h e e m p t y s h o p , a musk O f soap a n d turf and sweets w o u l d hit y o u f r o m t h e g l o o m . Tobacco. B a l i n g w i r e . T w i n e . A n d , o f c o u r s e , s h e l v e s a n d p y r a m i d s o f tins. An old w o m a n w o u l d appear from t h e b a c k - t h e r e was a sizzling pan in there, S o m e w h e r e , a w h i f f o f e g g s a n d b a c o n - a n d ask y o u w h a t y o u wanted; O r r a t h e r , s h e w o u l d n ' t ask; s h e w o u l d talk a b o u t t h e w e a t h e r . It had rained T h a t day, b u t it was l o o k i n g better. T h e y had just p u t in the spuds. I h a d o n l y c o m e t o pass t h e t i m e o f d a y , s o I b o u g h t a t o k e n p a c k e t o f G o l d Leaf. All t h i s t i m e t h e fry w a s f r y i n g a w a y . M a y b e s h e ' d a d a u g h t e r in there S o m e w h e r e , t h o u g h I h a d n ' t h e a r d t h e n e i g h b o u r s talk o f it; i f anybody knew, I t w o u l d b e H o r s e . H o r s e k e p t his ears t o t h e g r o u n d . A n d h e w a s a g r e a t m a n for c u r r e n t affairs; h e o w n e d t h e o n l y T V in the place. C o m e d u s k h e ' d set off o n his r o u n d s , t o tell t h e w h o l e t o w n l a n d t h e latest S i t u a t i o n i n t h e M i d d l e East, a m o r t a r b o m b a t t a c k i n Mullaghbawn T h e d a m n t h i n g s n e v e r w o r k e d , o f c o u r s e - a n d s o h e ' d tell t h e story I l o w i n h i s y o u n g day i t w.is v e r y different. T a k e y o u n g Flytin,
lot llist.iiu c .

W h o w a s o r d e r e d t o t a k e this b u s a n d s m u g g l e s o m e sticks o f gelignite Across the b o r d e r , i n t o D e n y , w h e n t h e RUC - or was it the RIC? G o t w i n d o f it. T h e b u s w a s s t o p p e d , t h e p e e l e r s t e p p e d o n . Y o u n g Flynn T o o k i t like a m a n , o f course: h e o w n e d u p right away. H e opened the bag A n d p r o d u c e d t h e b o m b , his r a n k a n d serial n u m b e r . F o r all the world L i k e a p o u n d o f sausages. O f c o u r s e , t h e t h i n g w a s , t h e p e e l e r ' s bike H a d got a puncture, and he didn't k n o w y o u n g Flynn from A d a m . All h e w a n t e d W a s t o g e t h o m e for his t e a . F l y n n w a s i n for s e v e n y e a r s a n d learned to speak T h e b e s t o f Irish. H e h a d t h i r t e e n w o r d s for a c o w i n h e a t ; A w o r d for t h e t h i r d t h w a r t i n a b o a t , t h e w a k e o f a b o a t o n t h e ebb tide. H e k n e w t h e e x t i n c t n a m e s o f i n s e c t s , f l o w e r s , w h y this p l a c e w a s called W h a t e v e r : Carrick, for e x a m p l e , w a s a rock. H e w a s d a m n r i g h t there As t h e m a n said, When you buy meat you buy bones, when you buy land you buy stones. Y o u ' d b e h a r d p u t t o find a s q u a r e f o o t i n t h e w h o l e b l o o d y parish T h a t w a s n ' t t h i c k w i t h flints a n d p e b b l e s . T o this d a y h e c o u l d hear the grate A n d s c r a p e a s t h e s p a d e s t r u c k h o m e , for i t r e m i n d e d h i m o f broken bones: D i g g i n g a g r a v e y a r d , m a y b e - or b e t t e r still, t r y i n g to d i g a reclaimed tip O f b r o k e n d e l p h a n d c r o c k e r y w a r e - y o u k n o w t h a t s o u n d that sets y o u r t e e t h o n e d g e W h e n t h e c h a l k s q u e a k s o n t h e b l a c k b o a r d , o r y o u s h o v e l ashes from the stove?

Master M c G i n t y - he'd be on about M c G i n t y then, and d i s c i p l i n e , t h e capitals O f S o u t h A m e r i c a , M o o r e ' s Melodies, t h e B a t t l e o f C l o n t a r f , a n d Tell me this, an educated man like you: it's young, What goes on four legs when

Two legs when it's grown up, and three legs when it's old? I'd p r e t e n d I d i d n ' t k n o w . M c G i n t y ' s l e a t h e r strap w o u l d c o m e u p t h e n , stuffed W i t h t h r e e p e n n y bits t o g i v e i t w e i g h t a n d s t i n g . O f c o u r s e , i t never did h i m Any harm: him You could take a horse to water but you couldn't make drink.

He himself was nearly g o i n g on to be a priest. And many's the young cub left the school, as wise as when he came. C a r r o w k e e l w a s w h e r e M c G i n t y c a m e f r o m - Narrow Quarter, Flynn explained Back before the T r o u b l e s , a place that was so m e a n and crabbed, H o r s e w o u l d h a v e it, m e n w e r e k n o w n t o e a t t h e i r d i n n e r f r o m a drawer. W h i c h t h e y ' d slide s h u t t h e m i n u t e y o u ' d w a l k i n . H e ' d d e m o n s t r a t e this a t t h e k i t c h e n t a b l e , h u n c h e d a n d f u r t i v e , squinting O u t t h e w i n d o w - past t h e t e e t e r i n g m i n a r e t s o f r u s t , d o w n t h e h e d g e - d a r k aisle To w h e r e a stranger m i g h t appear, a passer-by, or w h a t was maybe worse, Someone he knew. Someone w h o wanted something. Someone w h o was hungry. O f course w h o should c o m e tottering u p the lane that instant b u t his b r o t h e r M u l e . I forgot to m e n t i o n t h e y w e r e twins. T h e y w e r e as like two N o , n o t p e a s i n a p o d , for this i s n o t t h e t i m e n o r t h e p l a c e t o go into C o m p a r i s o n s , a n d this i s really H o r s e ' s s t o r y , H o r s e w h o - n o w I'm getting R o u n d t o i t - flew o v e r D r e s d e n i n t h e w a r . H e ' d e m i g r a t e d first, to M a n c h e s t e r . S o m e t h i n g t o d o w i t h scrap lti.o hincry, n i r e d u n d a n t mill

G i a n t f l y w h e e l s , b r o k e n l o o m s t h a t w o u l d , e v e n t u a l l y , b e ships, or aeroplanes. H e said h e w o r e his fingers t o t h e b o n e . A n d s o , o n i m p u l s e , h e h a d j o i n e d t h e RAF. H e b e c a m e a r e a r gunner. O f all t h e m i s s i o n s , D r e s d e n b r o k e his h e a r t . I t r e m i n d e d h i m o f china. A s h e r e m e m b e r e d it, l o n g a f t e r w a r d s , h e c o u l d h e a r , o r a l m o s t hear B e t w e e n the rapid desultory thunderclaps, a t h o u s a n d tinkling echoes All across t h e m a p o f D r e s d e n , s t o r e - r o o m s full o f c h i n a s h i v e r e d , teetered A n d collapsed, an avalanche of porcelain, slushing a n d cascading: cherubs, Shepherdesses, figurines o f H o p e and Peace a n d V i c t o r y , delicate b o n e fragments. H e r e c a l l e d i n p a r t i c u l a r a f i g u r e f r o m his c h i l d h o o d , a m i l k m a i d S t a n d i n g o n t h e m a n t e l p i e c e . E a c h n i g h t a s t h e y k n e l t d o w n for t h e rosary, His eyes w o u l d w a n d e r u p t o w h e r e she s e e m e d t o b e c k o n t o h i m , smiling, Offering h i m , eternally, h e r p i t c h e r o f milk, h e r m o u t h o f rose and cream. O n e d a y , r e a c h i n g u p t o h o l d h e r y e t a g a i n , his fingers s t u m b l e d , a n d s h e fell. H e lifted d o w n a b i s c u i t t i n , a n d o p e n e d it. I t b r e a t h e d a n a n t i q u e i n c e n s e : t h i n g s like p e n c i l s , snuff, t o b a c c o . His w a r medals. A b r o k e n rosary. A n d t h e r e , t h e m i l k m a i d ' s creamy hand, the outstretched P i t c h e r o f m i l k , all t h a t s u r v i v e d . O u t s i d e , t h e r e w a s a s c r a p i n g A n d a t i t t e r i n g ; I k n e w M u l e ' s s t e p b y n o w , his careful d r u n k e n weaving T h r o u g h t h e tin-stacks. I m i g h t have stayed t h e night, b u t there's no time To go back to that n o w ; I could hardly, at any rate, pick up the thread. I w a n d e r e d o u t t h r o u g h t h e s t e e p l e s o f r u s t , t h e g a t e that was a broken bed. 112

COCKTAILS B o m b i n g at about ninety miles an h o u r w i t h the exhaust skittering T h e s k i d - m a r k e d pitted tarmac o f K e n n e d y W a y , they hit the r a m p a n d sailed Clean over the r e d - a n d - w h i t e guillotine of the c h e c k - p o i n t and landed O n the M l flyover, t h e n disappeared before t h e Brits k n e w w h a t hit t h e m . So T h e story w e n t : w e w e r e i n the W h i p and Saddle bar o f the Europa. T h e r e w a s talk o f s o m e o n e w h o w a s s h o t n i n e t i m e s a n d l i v e d , a n d s o m e o n e else H a d the inside info, o n t h e R o m p e r R o o m . W e w e r e trying t o r e m e m b e r t h e facts B e h i n d t h e Black & D e c k e r case, w h e n s o m e o n e o r d e r e d a n o t h e r drink and we entered T h e r e a l m o f J a b b e r w o c k s a n d A n g e l s ' W i n g s , W i d o w s ' Kisses, Corpse Revivers.

THE MOUTH T h e r e w a s t h i s h e a d h a d t h i s m o u t h h e k e p t s h o o t i n g off. Unfortunately. I t c o u l d h a v e b e e n w o r s e for u s t h a n i t w a s for h i m . Provisionally. B u t since n o t h i n g i n this w o r l d i s certain a n d y o u d o n ' t k n o w w h o hears w h a t W e t h o u g h t i t w a s t i m e h e b i t off m o r e t h a n h e c o u l d c h e w . Literally. B y t h e t i m e h e i s f o u n d t h e r e ' l l b e n o t h i n g m u c h left t o tell w h o he was. But of course s o m e clever dick from the 'Forscenic Lab' reconstructs I I n n , what he u s e d to be fingerpi m t s , 11 \ not from h i s actual t e e t h , not Ins

B u t f r o m t h e c o r e - t h e t o o t h m a r k s o f t h e first a n d last b i t e h e ' d taken of This sour apple. But then we w o u l d have told t h e m anyway. Publicity.

HAMLET A s u s u a l , t h e c l o c k i n T h e C l o c k B a r w a s a g o o d f e w m i n u t e s fast: A f i c t i o n n o o n e really b o t h e r e d t o m a i n t a i n , u n l i k e t h e s t o r y T h e c o m r a d e o n m y left w a s t e l l i n g , w h i c h n o o n e k n e w for certain truth: Back in 1922 a sergeant, I forget his name, was shot outside the National Bank . . . A h y e s , w h a t y e a r w a s i t t h a t t h e y k n o c k e d i t d o w n ? Y e t , its m e m o r y ' s as fresh As the inky smell of n e w p o u n d notes - w h i c h interferes w i t h the beer-and-whiskey T a n g o f n o w , like t w o dogs m e e t i n g i n the r e v o l u t i o n a r y 6 9 o f a l o n g sniff, O r c a t t l e j o s t l i n g s h i t - s t a i n e d flanks i n t h e P o u n d . F o r pound, a s some wag I n t e r r u p t e d , w a s a n o f f - s h o o t o f t h e Falls, f r o m t h e Irish, fl, a hedge; H e n c e , any kind of enclosed thing, its t w i g s a n d b r a n c h e s commemorated By the soldiers' drab and olive camouflage, as they try to m e l t I n t o a b r i c k w a l l ; r e d c o a t s m i g h t be b e t t e r , after all. At any rate, This sergeant's number came up; not a winning one. name on it. T h o u g h S e r g e a n t X , a s w e ' l l call h i m , d o e s n ' t really f e a t u r e i n t h e story: T h e n u b of it is, Tliis tin can which was heard that night, trundling down From Saw. the bank, down Balaklava Street. Which thousands heard, and no one ever Which was heard for years, any night that trouble might he Round the corner. . . a n d w h e n it s k i t t e r e d to a halt, y o u k n e w T h a t s o m e o n e else h a d snuffed it: a n a m e d r i f t i n g like a n afterthought,
\U

The bullet had his

A j c r i b b l e d wisp of s m o k e y o u try and grasp, as it b e c o m e s diminuendo, then V a n i s h e s . F o r fl is also frontier, boundary, as in the undiscovered country For whose boujM. no traveller returns, t h e i l l e g i b l e , t h o r n y h e d g e of t i m e itself H e a r t s t o p p i n g m o m e n t s , m e a s u r e d n o t by t h e pulse of a wristwatch, nor T h e a r c h a i c a n a r c h i s t s ' a l a r m - c l o c k , b u t a m e r c u r y tilt d e v i c e W h i c h 'only connects' on any given b u m p on the road. So, by this w i n g e d m e s s e n g e r T h e p r o m i s e ' t o p a y t h e b e a r e r ' i s fulfilled: A s s o m e o n e b u y s a n o t h e r r o u n d , a n A l l i e d Irish B a n k s 1 0 n o t e drowns in T h e slops o f t h e c o u n t e r ; a G u i n n e s s stain b l o o m s o n t h e artist's impression O f t h e s i n k i n g o f t h e Girona; a t i n y f o a m hisses r o u n d t h e salamander brooch Dredged up to show h o w love and m o n e y endure, b e y o n d death and the Armada, L i k e t h e b o m b - d i s p o s a l e x p e r t i n his suit o f s a l a m a n d e r - c l o t h . S h i e l d e d against t h e blast o f t i m e b y a s t r a n g e l y m e d i a e v a l v i s o r , H e ' s b e e n o u t m o d e d b y this j e r k y r o b o t w h o s e v a r i o u s attachments include A large hook for turning over corpses that may be booby-trapped; future In a final act of No surrender, as, t w i s t i n g t h r o u g h t h e m u r k y . , fathoms Of w h a t m i g h t have b e e n , he is w a s h e d ashore as pearl and coral. This strange eruption to our state is s e e n in o t h e r v e r s i o n s of t h e Falls: /1 no-go area, a ghetto, a demolition zone. F o r t h e g h o s t , as it t u r n s out All this a c c o r d i n g to y o u r m a n , a n d I c a n w e l l b e l i e v e it - this tin
ghost,

B u t I still h a v e this p i c t u r e o f his h a n d s h e l d u p t o a v e r t t h e

S i n c e the- streets i t h a u n t e d w e r e a b o l i s h e d , w a s n e v e r h e a r d a g a i n . T h e s l e e v e o l Raglan Street h a s b e e n u n r a v e l l e d ; the- h e l m e t o l Balaklava

119

I s t o r n a w a y f r o m t h e m o u t h . T h e d i m g l o w o f G a r n e t has g o n e out, A n d w i t h it, all b u t t h e m e m o r y o f w h e r e I l i v e d . I , t o o , h e a r d the ghost: A roulette trickle, or the hesitant a n n u n c i a t i o n of a d o w n p o u r , ricocheting O f f t h e w i n d o w ; a g o o d s t r a i n s h u n t i n g d i s t a n t l y i n t o ajsiding, T h e n g r o a n i n g t o a halt; t h e r a i n y cries o f c h i l d r e n after d u s k . For the voice from the grave reverberates in others' m o u t h s , as t h e sails O f t h e w h i t e t h o r n h e d g e s w e l l u p i n a little b r e e z e , a n d t r e m b l e L i k e t h e spiral b l o s s o m o f A n d r o m e d a : s o s u d d e n l y a r e s h r o u d s and branches H u n g w i t h s t r e e t - l i g h t s , c e l e b r a t i n g all t h a t ' s lost, a s fields are reclaimed By the Starry P l o u g h . So we n a m e the constellations, to p u t a shape O n w h a t w a s t h e r e ; s o , t h e s t o r y t e l l e r p i c k s his w a y b e t w e e n t h e i s o l a t e d stars. B u t , Was it really like that? A n d , /5 the story true? Y o u m i g h t a s w e l l t e a r off t h e i r o n m a s k , a n d find t h a t n o o n e , after all, Is there: n o t h i n g b u t a cry, a s u m m o n s , clanking o u t from the smoke O f d e m o l i t i o n . L i k e s o m e s o n l o o k i n g for his f a t h e r , o r t h e fathei for his s o n , W e try t o piece t o g e t h e r the e x p l o d e d fragments. Let these b r o k e n spars S t a n d for t h e A r m a d a a n d its p r o u d full sails, for e v e n i f T h e c l o c k i s p u t t o r i g h t s , e v e r y o n e will still b e l i e v e it's fast: T h e b a r m a n ' s s h o u t s o f time w i l l b e i g n o r e d i n a n y case, s i n c e time Is c o n v e r s a t i o n ; it is t h e h e d g e t h a t flits i n c e s s a n t l y i n t o t h e present, A s w o r d s b l o s s o m f r o m t h e s p e a k e r s ' m o u t h s , a n d t h e flotilla returns to harbour, L o n g after h o u r s .

OVID:

METAMORPHOSES,

V,

529-550

P e r s e p h o n e a t e s e v e n p o m e g r a n a t e s e e d s . S o w h a t ? I'll tell y o u what I t d o e s n ' t d o t o t o u c h s t r a n g e fruit, w h e n it's f o r b i d d e n b y t h e PowersT h a t - B e . W h o p u t y o u o n a h u n g e r s t r i k e w h i c h , i f YOU b r e a k , y o u ' l l stay p u t In the U n d e r w o r l d . It d o e s n ' t do to get caught out. W a t c h o u t for p r o w l e r s . She'd w a n d e r e d into Pluto's m u r k y realm; plucked the dullorange bubble. Split t h e c o r t e x . S u c k e d . A n d w h o w a s s a l i v a t i n g i n t h e b u s h e s ' dark interior But Ascalaphus. Stoolie. P i p s q u e a k . M o u t h . H e spilled t h e beans on her, he blabbed S t r a i g h t off h e s h o t , a n d k n o c k e d , k n o c k e d , k n o c k e d o n Heaven's iron door. B u t s h e spat b a c k a s g o o d a s s h e h a d g o t : u n h o l y w a t e r f r o m t h e Phlegethon She slabbered on h i m . His eyes y e l l o w e d , d r o o l e d , a n d g r e w . His neb b e c a m e a beak. 1 l c s p r o u t e d s p e r m y w i n g s . H o o k e d t a l o n s s h o t f r o m his fingers. His b o d y dwindled I n t o m o s t l y h e a d . All ears, all e y e s : t o u t s e v e r y w h e r e , p o t e n t i a l freaks. H e w a r e . F o r n o w h e i s t h e s c r a k e - o w l , T r o u b l e s ' a u g u r y for Auld Lang Syne, W h o t o this d a y i s h a r b i n g e r o f d o o m , t h e g l o o m o f P l u t o ' s no-go zone.

BAGPIPE MUSIC I l c i a m c l i l t i n g d o w n t h e b r a e w i t h a b l a c k t h o r n stick t h e t h i c k ol a s h o t g u n In Ins fist, g o i n g /'/'/' iliilniy dump </ (/'('(//< icdttvry idle fortunoodle

11 !

W h e n I s a w his w i l l - o ' - t h e - w i s p g o d a n d e r t h r o u g h a field o f blue flax randomly, abandonedly T i l l all his d o t s a n d d a s h e s z i p p e d t o g e t h e r , r i p p e d r i g h t t h r o u g l i their perforations L i k e a Z e p h y r t h r o u g h t h e Z o d i a c : t h e w a y a q u a d r i l l e , i n its last configuration, T a k e s o n t h e b r a n c h e s o f a s w a s t i k a , all ribs a n d s h a n k s a n d m a l e and female c h r o m o s o m e s ; T i l l I h e a r d his v o i c e d i m i n i s h l i k e t h e c o r n c r a k e ' s i n t h e last a b a n d o n e d acre Scrake tithery lass a laddie nation aries hiber Packie, h e ' d be Oblivious to the black-and-tan, leaf-and-muck-bestrewn s q u a t t i n g figure W h o s e o n l y o b v i o u s f e a t u r e s are t h e a l m o s t - b l u e w h i t e s o f his t w o b l u e e y e s , w h o crabs F r o m leaf t o s h a d o w , m e s m e r i z e d b y o l i v e a n d b u r n t u m b e r , t h e khaki, lion patches Of his C o c k n e y a c c e n t , g o i n g hang bang a bleeper doddle doodlebug an asterix. T h e Pisces r o d o f his aerial t w i t c h e d j u s t n o w , a s i f h e ' d g o t t h e message, T h a t t h e e a r t h itself w a s c a m o u f l a g e d . B l u e b e l l s c a r p e t e d t h e q u i v e r e d g l a d e s , as, T h r e e f i e l d s a w a y , t h e t i c k - t o c k o f t h e g r a n d m o t h e r reassures u s with the long extended Skillet o f its p e n d u l u m . T h e w i f e i n all o f this i s s i d e l o n g , p o i s e d Egyptian I n h e r fitted k i t c h e n , t h o u g h t h e p i c t o g r a p h i s full o f Ireland's Own-type details, Virgin M a r y s , b l u e a n d w h i t e p l a t e s r a n g e d l i k e p u n c t u a t i o n i n t h e lull of memory. T h e walls are s e n t e n c e s . W e see t h e t h r e e walls a n d t h e f o u r t h i s glassy u s . Ocularity a moiety blah skiddery ah disparity: t h e s h o t g u n m a d e a kind of statement, t w o C r o w s falling in a d e a d - b l a c k u m l a u t . w o u l d say, a n d f e e d Me yet a n o t h e r yarn: h o w y o u find a creeper in the u n d e r g r o w t h and yank. The Lucky Shot, my m a n

A n d a r i p p l e d , r i p p e d n e t s h i v e r s t h r o u g h its w a r p o f b l a c k - d a m p earth aroma. T h e r e ' s i n k e m b e d d e d i n his t w o e y e s b l u e , l i k e c h i l d r e n ' s d o t s . Listen close E n o u g h , you'll get the b l o o p i n g of the retting d a m , parturient, as bubbles Pick and p o c k a m o r s e w a y t h r o u g h the stench of r o t t i n g flax. For it s e e m e d T h e grandmother produced an alarm-clock from her psychobabble handbag. T h a t w a s a t t h e c h e c k - p o i n t . M e a n w h i l e , t h e trail w a s b e g i n n i n g t o l e a k a n d waft A w a y , b u t t h e sniffer d o g s p e r s e v e r e d i n t h e i r r e n d i t i o n o f Ttte Fox Chase, lapping A n d s n u f f l i n g u p t h e p e p p e r - b l a c k Stardust f i b r i l l a t i n g o n t h e p a p e r , till T h e i n t e r v i e w was t h w a r t e d by Aquarius, a blue line on the m a p that was C o n t e m p o r a n e o u s w i t h its past. Skirl girn a snaffle birdie girdle on the griddle howlin H e r e a squad of b l a c k - a n d - w h i t e minstrels w h e e l in f r o m Stage Right, or rather, they Are w e a r i n g balaklavas, a n d it o n l y looks like that, t h e i r g r i n n i n g T o o t h p a s t e lips, t h e i r r o l l i n g w h i t e s o f e y e s , t h e i r Tipp-Exed t e e t h , t h e i r Daz f o r e n s i c Cloves. T h e y twirl their walking-sticks as thick as guns to marching tunes T h a t b l a t t e r i n t h a t f o u r t h g r e e n field across t h e b o r d e r , u p s t a i r s in a t e n t , W i t h C a p r i c o r n - s k i n d r u m s a n d fifes, w h i l e B l a v a t s k y h o l l e r s through a bullhorn, (tive ye thirty shillins for yer wan poun ten, yer wan poun ten, yer Fair e x c h a n g e , t h e y say, s u r e six o f o n e a n d h a l f - a - d o z e n o f t h e brother 1 g e t t h e drift o f t h e Bloo i n t h e p o r t a b l e l o o , J o h n , l i k e , i t ' s o n e p i n g cancels out rhe pong, going January, February, March! April, May, June, July!

IIV

H e w a s b l a b b i n g w i t h his J e w - o r - j a w ' s h a r p f i n g e r o n his l o w e r lip, w h e n t h e b r e e c h O f t h e g u n s n a p p e d o u t its b r e a c h o f t h e p e a c e . T h e l i n e n handkerchief had got A b r a c k i n it, s o m e h o w , t h e d o t s a n d d a s h e s o f s o m e o t h e r ' s r e d . I tried to pin it d o w n J u s t t h e n , o r p e n i t d o w n , b u t t h e L a m b e g s w o u l d n ' t let m e , a n d anyway, my t h u m b A n d f i n g e r ' s s m e a r e d u p t o t h e w r i s t w i t h Lion i n k . M y h a n d is d i s L o c a t e d . T h e u n m a r k e d car c a m e q u i e t l y , e n q u i r i n g l y , w h i l e i n a no-go zone T h r e e s t r e e t s a w a y , I h e a r d t w o taxis c r a b b i n g , l i k e G e m i n i i n Gethsemane, which Of t h e m w a s b l a c k : honk parp a bullet billet reverup and harp a ballad Scrake nithery lou a mackie nice wee niece ah libralassie . . . Just before I p u t t h e t h i n g to b e d , I closed a pair of scorpion's i n v e r t e d c o m m a s r o u n d it. T o m o r r o w I w o u l d g l a n c e a t t h e d e c a p i t a t e d h e a d l i n e s , t h e n flick f o r w a r d t o t h e Stars.

T O M

P A U L I N

Born Leeds, 1949, of English father and N o r t h e r n Irish m o t h e r . M o v e d to Belfast, 1953. Educated at Annadale G r a m m a r School, Belfast, the University of Hull and Lincoln College, Oxford. T a u g h t from 1972 at the University of N o t t i n g h a m , w h e r e he was briefly Professor of Poetry before b e i n g appointed lecturer in English at Hartford College, Oxford, in 1994. A founder m e m b e r and director of the Field Day T h e a t r e C o m p a n y , he has published versions of Aeschylus and Sophocles, and edited t w o controversial anthologies, The Faber Book of Political Verse (1986) and The Faber Book of Vernacular Verse (1990). Minotaur: Poetry and the Nation State (1992) is the most recent of three critical books. A p r o m i n e n t critic in b o t h print and broadcast media in Britain, Paulin is currently w o r k i n g on a life of William Hazlitt. Paulin's poetry is perhaps best seen as a corollary of the brilliant, tendentious and ultimately equivocal critique of Protestantism elaborated in his literary essays. T h e decline of Calvinist individualism to the vulgar, blustering consumerism he wittily - s o m e might say outrageously - portrays in 'Off the Back of a Lorry' is charted in a series of superb studies (of Milton, Emily Dickinson, T e d H u g h e s and others) in Minotaur. Paulin's vision of Ulster unionism in ' D e s e r t m a r t i n ' and 'A W r i t t e n Answer' rests on an aspirational reading of the 1798 rebellion: the Presbyterian U n i t e d Irishmen exist for h i m in an i n n o c e n t foretime to Protestantism's disastrous pact with imperialism. T h e spiky acerbity of his style counters any sentimentality in Paulin's historical conceptions. His m o r e recent w o r k - represented here by the Yeatsian s p o o f ' T h e Lonely T o w e r ' - seeks to fracture the formalities of lyric utterance in the interest of a vernacular urgency.

P O T BURIAL H e has m a r r i e d a g a i n . H i s w i f e Buys o r n a m e n t s a n d places t h e m ( ) n the dark sideboard. Year by year H e r vases a n d small jugs c r o w d o u t T h e smiles o f t h e w i l e w h o d i e d .

'i

WHERE ART IS A MIDWIFE In the third decade of March, A Tuesday in the t o w n of Z T h e censors are o n day-release. T h e y must learn a b o u t literature. T h e r e are things called ironies, Also symbols, w h i c h carry m e a n i n g . T h e types o f ambiguity Are as n u m e r o u s as the e n e m i e s O f t h e state. F o r m a l and b o u r g e o i s , Sonnets sing of the old order, Its lost g a r d e n s w h e r e w h i t e ladies Are served w i n e in the subtle shade. This p o e m about a bear Is n o t a p o e m a b o u t a b e a r . I t m i g h t b e t e r m e d a satire On a loyal friend. Do I n e e d T o spell i t o u t ? I s i t p o s s i b l e T h a t n o n e o f y o u can understand?

DESERTMARTIN A t n o o n , i n t h e d e a d c e n t r e o f a faith, B e t w e e n Draperstown and Magherafelt, T h i s b i t t e r village s h o w s t h e flag In a b a k e d absolute S e p t e m b e r light. H e r e t h e W o r d has w i t h e r e d t a f e w Parched certainties, and the charred stubble T i g h t e n s l i k e a b l a c k b e l t , a c r o p of Bibles.

Ml

B e c a u s e this i s t h e t e r r i t o r y o f t h e L a w I d r i v e across it w i t h a p o w e r l e s s k n o w l e d g e T h e o w l o f M i n e r v a i n a h i r e d car. A J o c k sqjoaddy g l a n c e s d o w n t h e s t r e e t A n d grins, h a p p y a n d e x p e n d a b l e , L i k e a brass, c a r t r i d g e . He is a useful t h i n g , Almost at h o m e , and yet not quite, not quite. It's a j i m e d n e s t , this p l a c e . I see a p l a i n Presbyterian grace sour, t h e n harden, As a free s t r e n u o u s spirit c h a n g e s , To a servile d e f i a n c e t h a t w h i n e s a n d shrieks,. '< F o r the b o n d a g e of the letter: it shouts F o r t h e B i g M a n t o l e a d his w e e p e o p l e T o a c l e a n w h i t e p r i s o n , t h e i r soDrched t o m o r r o w . M a s c u l i n e Islam, t h e rule of the Just,^ Egyptian sand dunes and g e o m e t r y , A t h e o l o g y of rifle-butts a n d executions: T h e s e are t h e p l a c e s w h e r e t h e spirit d i e s . A n d n o w , i n D e s e r t m a r t i n ' s sandy light, I s e e a c u l t u r e of t w i g s a n d b i r d - s h i t W a v i n g a g a u d y flag i t l o v e s a n d c u r s e s .

OFF T H E BACK OF A LORRY A zippo lighter and a quilted jacket, two rednecks troughing in a g l e a m y d i n e r , t h e flinty c h i p m a r k s o n a w h i t e e n a m e l pail, Paisley p u t t i n g p e n t o p a p e r in C r u m l i n jail, a j u m b o double fried p e a n u t b u t t e r s a n d w i c h Elvis s c o f f e d
d m mi', t h e last diapered days

they're m o r e than tacky, these p u r e d fictions, a n d l i k e t h e small ads in a c o u n t r y p a p e r they build a gritty sort o f p r o d b a r o q u e I m u s t r e t u r n to like m y o w n b o k e .

A W R I T T E N ANSWER This p o e m by Rupert Brookeborough i s all a b o u t f i s h i n g a n d t h e s t o u t B - m e n ( t h e y live for a l w a y s i n o u r h e a r t s , t h e i r o n l y c r i m e w a s b e i n g loyal), t h e r e is a l o u g h in it a n d stacks of rivers, also a b r a v e w e e h y m n t o t h e s t e n - g u n . T h e poet describes G o u g h o f the C u r r a g h a n d b y his u s e o f m a n y m e t r i c arts he d e s i g n s a f i c t i o n a r y u n i v e r s e w h i c h has its o w n l a w s a n d i s n ' t q u i t e t h e s a m e a s this p l a c e t h a t w e call real. H i s use o f m e t o n y m y i s p r e t t y d e s p e r a t e and the green symbolism's a contradiction, b u t I like his i m a g e o f t h e e l m a n d c h e s t n u t , for to me this a u t h o r is a fly m a n a n d t h e critics y o n d e r say his w o r k i s a l r i g h t .

T H E LONELY T O W E R 'WANTED - coastal farm, site, derelict house, period house, stable yard, outhouse, lodge, martello. Must be on sea. Immediate cash settlement. Box Z0490.' Either incognito and desperate o r m o r e likely a small d e v e l o p e r dreaming the obvious \2A

they've neither the form n o r the substance only the theme b u t w h a t a t h e m e it is - J o h n Melly's breezeblock bothie in the dunes above D o o e y Strand a w i n d y l o o k - o u t post from the E m e r g e n c y the Lone Man's H o u s e at B a l l y e r i s t o n (baled h a y i n e v e r y r o o m blank uncurtained w i n d o w s d u s t sealight b u l l o c k s b l u r p i n g i n t h e fields d o g g y b o n e s o n t h e k i t c h e n floor) that coastguard station - roofless s i n c e t h e state's f o u n d i n g set o n t h e hillside a b o v e P o r t n o o Post Office a n e n t i r e d e s e r t e d village e v e n w h e r e t h e r o a d g i v e s u p its p o t h o l e d g h o s t in a wilderness of scree and i r o n s t o n e - from the dead martello d o w n t o the shed o n the c e m e n t pier most any building in this squally c l a c h a n could quicken into newness - y o u can w r i t e t h e m o u t in a verse or j u m p in a lorry rammed with cement and timber t h e n bash bash bash till t h e d a y w h e n y o u p a i n t Wavecrest o n t h e g a t e p o s t

125

B I D D Y

J E N K I N S O N

'Biddy J e n k i n s o n ' is the p s e u d o n y m of a p o e t b o r n in 1949, w h o is the wife of a diplomat. W h e n ' C i t h e a d h ' was published in Poetry Ireland Review (Summer, 1988) the ' N o t e s on C o n t r i b u t o r s ' described the author as a ' h e r m i t ' and 'pensioned b e e - k e e p e r ' , and credited the translator with a v o l u m e called The Flaccid Halo. J e n k i n s o n is perhaps the most stylistically assured and versatile Irishlanguage poet to emerge over t h e last decade. She has imposed a partial ban on translation of her w o r k into English: 'It is a small rude gesture to those that think that everything can be harvested and stored w i t h o u t loss in an English-speaking Ireland.' I have chosen o n e p o e m from the small n u m b e r she has p e r m i t t e d to appear in dual-language format.

CITHEADH D m b a mise an barruisce ghabhfainn c h u g h a m do bharraicn D h a n f a i n n suir le do ritn le cr grian-gheal na scribe Dhanfainn tathaint ar do choiscim le haistharraingt na m a i d h m e is l o n f a i n n o r t na h i o s c a i d le c u i l i t h n . D m b a mise an t o n n shraic dhanfainn m n m n le do ghline C h u i r f i n n c r e a t h n a c h t a g p r e a b a r n a c h a r fud d o c h e a t h r n a D h a n f a i n n leisbhearta d e m c h r a i c e a n n duit is tris d e m shoda uaine B r a c h l a i n n t h a r d o b h o l g suas i s m r t a s o r t g o guaill. D m b a m a n m h u i r i o m g h o r m ghoidfinn uait d o shile D ' f h i a r f a i n n c h u g h a m d ' i n t i n n l e siansa i s s u a i t h e a d h Ruathuile ad tharraingt d o m h a i n d o m h a i n c h u g h a m de rchladh Cocha an chuain ag borradh chughat le mana mirne M a r g u r geal a n l, g u r geal a n s p i r , g u r d i m h l i o m g a c h d i l e i s n fhgfainn b r o i g h e a l l d u b h a r leac d b h f a d h f a i n n m h s c a i l t . T a n fharraige a r d , a n g h r i a n g o h a r d , m i s e ln d e g h r s t a is f e a m i lr na f e a m a i n n e ag rince leis go ssta.

>2H

SPRAY If I w e r e the spreading tide sheets I w o u l d o v e r w h e l m y o u r insteps I w o u l d fetch up r o u n d y o u r ankles w i t h t h e s u n b l e a c h e d w r a t h of storms I w o u l d coax y o u to step closer w i t h the swishback of the gravel and swoosh back up b e h i n d your knees i n curls. I f I w e r e t h e t u g g i n g b a c k w a s h I w o u l d t i t t e r y o u a n d tease y o u s e n d w a v e s o f g o o s e f l e s h u p y o u r legs i n s q u a m e s T h i g h h o l e s o f m y skin for y o u . m y g r e e n e s t silk t o please y o u H i g h c o m b e r s u p y o u r reefy ribs, y o u r s h o u l d e r s s p u m e d in squalls If I w e r e green in essence I w o u l d m e l t y o u r eyes and take t h e m I w o u l d h o l d y o u r m i n d s u s p e n d e d like t h e w a t e r i n a w a v e D o w n , you'd flow; deep d o w n to m e , while over you most blithely T h e h a r b o u r ' s breasts w o u l d j u t w i t h i n t i m a t i o n s of a war. F o r t h e d a y is fine, t h e sky is b r i g h t a n d I am full a n d f r i e n d l y a n d I ' d l e a v e n o sea s h a g c r u c i f i e d i f I c o u l d p l u m e its f e a t h e r s S w e l l i n g sea a n d s h i n i n g s u n a n d . . . O h m y d e a r , b e m e r r y T h e sea staff t h r o u g h t h e sea m e m b r a n e s is d e l i c a t e l y stirring. translated by Alex Osborne

M E D B H

M c G U C K I A N

B o r n Belfast, 1950. Educated at the D o m i n i c a n College, Belfast, and Q u e e n ' s University. W o r k e d as a secondary school teacher for some years before b e c o m i n g a full-time writer. Has b e e n literary editor of Fortnight, writer-in-residence at Q u e e n ' s and visiting fellow at the University of California, Berkeley. Lives in Belfast. M c G u c k i a n ' s playful, enigmatic lyrics recall the w o r k of Rilke and Stevens in their absorption w i t h their o w n processes - if n o t in their sometimes coquettish t o n e . Critics are divided as to w h e t h e r their challenge to semantic authority issues from postmodernist relativism or feminist radicalism. ' T h e S e e d - P i c t u r e ' and ' T h e Sitting' explore in terms of p i c t u r e - m a k i n g the p o w e r relations involved in any act of representation. ' T h e Flower Master' meditates on the inescapable tensions of sexuality, managing in the metaphors of the closing lines to be coy and genitally specific at the same time. 'Porcelain Bells', an elegiac sequence on the death of the poet's father, is addressed to her m o t h e r .

T H E SEED-PICTURE T h i s i s m y p o r t r a i t o f J o a n n a - s i n c e t h e split T h e children c o m e t o m e like a d u m b - w a i t e r , A n d I w o n d e r w h e r e t o p u t t h e m , b e a u t i f u l seeds W i t h no immediate application .. . the clairvoyance O f s e e d - w o r k has o p e n e d u p N e w spectrums o f activity, b e y o n d a s e c o n d h o m e . T h e seeds dictate their o w n vocabulary, T h e i r dusty colours capture M o r e than w e can plan, T h e m o u l d o n walls, o r j u m b l e d garages, D e a d flower h e a d s w h e r e i n s e c t s s h a c k . . . I only guide t h e m not by guesswork In their necessary n u m b e r s , A n d a t t a c h t h e m b y t h e s p i n e t o a perfect b e d d i n g , W o o d y orange pips, and t e a r - d r o p apple. 130

T h e banana of the caraway, wrinkled peppercorns, T h e p o c k e d peach, or waterlily honesty, T h e seamed cherry stone so hard to break. W a s it such self-indulgence to enclose her In the b o r d e r of a g r a n d m o t h e r ' s sampler, B o n d i n g all t h e s e e d s i n o n e c o n t i n u o u s skin, T h e sky resolved to a c l o u d t h e l e n g t h of a m a n ? T o use t a n l i n s e e d for t h e t r e e s , s p i k y S u n f l o w e r for l e a v e s , b r i g h t lentils F o r t h e w i n d o w , p a t n a stars F o r the f l o r a l blouse? H e r hair Is m a d e of h o o k - s h a p e d marigold, gold O f p l e a s u r e for h e r lips, like r a s p b e r r y g r a i n . T h e e y e l i d s o a t m e a l , t h e irises O f D u t c h blue m a w , black rape For the pupils, millet F o r t h e v i c i o u s b e i g e circles u n d e r n e a t h . T h e single p e a r l b a r l e y T h a t sleeps a r o u n d h e r d u l l n e s s Till it catches light, m a k e s w o m e n F e e l t h e i r a g e , a n d sigh for l i b e r a t i o n .

GATEPOSTS A m a n w i l l k e e p a h o r s e for p r e s t i g e B u t a w o m a n ripens best u n d e r g r o u n d . H e settles w h e r e t h e w i n d B r i n g s his w h i r l i n g h a t t o rest, A n d the w i n d decides w h i c h d o o r is to be used. U n d e r the hip-roofed thatch, T h e b e d - w i n g i s w a r m e d b y the c h i m n e y breast; O n e i t h e r side t h e k e e p i n g - h o l e s F o r his b e l o n g i n g s , h e r s . I l c s a y s it's u n l u c k y t o w i d e n t h e h o u s e A n d leaves t h e g a t e p o s t s h o l d i n g u p t h e fairies.
I le l a y s Ins l a / y b e d s a n d Inn iis l lie i i v e i ,

111

H e builds turf-castles, A n d sprigs t h e c o r n w i t h a p p l e - m i n t . She spreads h e a t h e r o n t h e floor A n d sifts t h e o a t m e a l a r k for t h i n - b r e a d farls: All t h r o u g h t h e b l u e m o n t h , J u l y , S h e tosses s t o n e s i n basins t o t h e s u n , A n d w a t c h e s for t h e t r o u t i n t h e h o l y w e l l .

T H E FLOWER MASTER L i k e f o x g l o v e s i n t h e s c h o o l o f t h e grass m o o n We c o m e to terms with shade, with the principle O f e n f o l d i n g s p a c e . O u r scissors i n b r o c a d e , W e learn the coolness o f straight edges, h o w T o s t r o k e g e n t l y t h e n e c k s o f daffodils A n d m a k e t h e m t h r o w their heads back to the sun. W e slip t h e t h r e a d y s t e m s o f v i o l e t s , d e l a y T h e loveliness o f t h e hibiscus d a w n w i t h q u i e t ovals, Spirals o f f e v e r f e w l i k e w a t e r s p l a s h i n g , T h e p a p e r y legacies o f b l u e b e l l s . W e d o Sea-fans w i t h s e a - l a v e n d e r , m o o n - a r r a n g e m e n t s R o u g h l y for t h e festival o f m o o n - v i e w i n g . T h i s b l a c k c o n t a i n e r calls for sloes, s w e e t Sultan, dainty n i p p l e w o r t , in h o n o u r O f a special g u e s t , w h o s u m m o n e d t o t h e Tea ceremony, must stoop to our low doorway, O u r f o n t a n e l l e , t h e t r o u t ' s d i m p l e d feet.

T H E SITTING M y half-sister c o m e s t o m e t o b e p a i n t e d : S h e is p o s i n g f u r t i v e l y , like a l e t t e r b e i n g Pushed u n d e r a door, m a k i n g a tunnel with her I l a n d s o v e r h e r d u l l - r o s e dress. Yet h e r c o p p e r y

H e a d is as b r i g h t as a n e t of l e m o n s , I am Painting it hair by hair as if she h a d n o t D i s o w n e d it, o r f o r s a k e n t h o s e u n s p a r k l i n g E y e s a s b l u e m a y b e sifted f r o m t h e surface Of a cloud; a n d she questions my brisk B r u s h w o r k , the n o t e of positive red I n t h e kissed m o u t h I h a v e g i v e n h e r , As a w o m a n ' s t o u c h makes curtains blossom P e r m a n e n t l y in a h o u s e : s h e calls it W i s h f u l n e s s , t h e failure o f t h e t a m p e r i n g r a i n T o g o right i n t o t h e m o u n t a i n , she prefers M y s e a - s t u d i e s , a n d w i l l n o t sit for m e Again, s o m e t h i n g half-opened, rarer T h a n railroads, a soiled r e d - l e t t e r day.

MARCONI'S C O T T A G E S m a l l a n d w a t c h f u l as a l i g h t h o u s e , A p u r e clear p l a c e o f n o p a r t i c u l a r c h i l d h o o d , It is as if t h e sea h a d s p o k e n in y o u A n d then the w o r d s had dried. B i t t e n a n d f o s t e r e d b y t h e sea A n d by the British spring, T h e r e s e e m s o n l y this o n e w a y o f h a p p e n i n g , A n d a p o e m t o p r o v e i t has h a p p e n e d . N o w I am close e n o u g h , I o p e n my arms To y o u r castle-thick walls, I m u s t learn T o use y o u r w i l d n e s s w h e n I l o c k a n d u n l o c k Y o u r d o o r w e a k e r t h a n kisses. M a y b e y o u a r e a g o d o f sorts, O r a h u m a n star, l a s t i n g i n spite o f u s L i k e a n o t e p r o p p e d against a b o w l o f f l o w e r s , O r a r e d shirt t o w e a r against light b l u e . T h e b e d o l y o u i m i n d has w e a t h e r e d
H o o k s ol l o v e ,
V<II

are ill I have g a t h e r e d

11 \

T o m e o f otherness; t h e w o r n glisten Of your flesh is relearned and reloved. A n o t h e r unstructured, unmarried, unfinished S u m m e r , slips its u n c l e n c h e d w e a t h e r Into my winter poems, cheating time A n d b l o o d o f their timelessness. L e t m e h a v e y o u for w h a t w e call Forever, the deeper opposite of a picture, Y o u r leaves, t h e part o f y o u T h a t t h e sea first t a l k e d t o .

from PORCELAIN BELLS

SPEAKING I N T O T H E CANDLES

This death you have nourished is too orderly, its f r a g r a n c e t o o c o n v i n c i n g . Y o u w e a r i t l i k e a n u n u s u a l l y free v e i l , so light it flies by m e ; t h e m i r r o r h a r d l y b e l i e v e s it. Or as if y o u w e r e living in another t o w n , r e j o i n i n g us w i t h a c o m p l e t e l y different handwriting, timid and beautiful. L e a v i n g t h e r o o m , y o u b r e a k off a p i e c e o f t h e w o r l d , a r o u n d w h i c h m y life i s s t a n d i n g , t h r o u g h w h i c h m y b l o o d spreads. Missing so m u c h world, y o u still h o l d o u t y o u r h a n d s for m o r e w o r l d , y o u r footsteps softening like a creature before w h o m doors give way. Y o u lie a l o n e o n a n e w s u r f a c e , sharp as y o u r o w n e d g e or a strange birthday, u n s l e e p i n g early i n a n e w d a r k n e s s , t o o - a w a k e like a b r i g h t l y lit h o u s e , its p r o l o n g e d a n d c o u n t e d light. T h e r e is a c l o s e n e s s of m a n y lights in y o u , like stars m o v i n g f o r w a r d m e a n i n g f u l l y .
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Every flower in you is e v e r y w h e r e . E v e n if you w e r e outside, w h e r e s u m m e r was, y o u w o u l d still b e i n s i d e e v e r y leaf. P a i n o p e n s y o u r h a n d s like a b o o k or a t w o - s y l l a b l e w o r d I find as u n i n t e l l i g i b l e as the w i n d o w s of other people. Y e t y o u are c o n t i n u a l l y u n d e r s t a n d i n g it, t h o u g h n o w y o u are d r a i n e d o f all m e a n i n g , a n d o u t o f politeness try t o r e m e m b e r h o w t o b e c o m p l e t e l y afraid. W h a t do y o u care if I, y o u r y o u n g e r m o u t h , stay o r l e a v e , t h o u g h y o u r dress s h o n e u p o n m e w h e n it willed me into existence? Y o u cannot anymore be the blue in my eyes. W h a t is t h e year to y o u w h e n you have m o v e d outside yourself and endure the m o t i o n of the earth a s n o t b e i n g r i g h t for y o u , g r o w i n g dark e v e r y w h e r e inside y o u a s i f y o u r air h a d b e e n d r i v e n o u t far a b o v e y o u ? Y e t e v e n a s y o u refuse t o b e u n d e r s t o o d , l i k e y o u r city i n w h i c h n o t h i n g is e v e r f o r g i v e n , if I d a r e u p o n y o u r s i l e n c e , y o u cry i t o u t w h o l e , w i t h a full, u p w a r d g l a n c e , like a nightingale. I will s u r v i v e this l a t e - s p e a k i n g l o v e w h e n m o r n i n g b e c o m e s conscious it is no l o n g e r p o s s i b l e w h e n t h e eternal procession o f t h e sky passes o v e r i t a s o v e r n a t u r e . I t will n o t b e t h e n i g h t b e t w e e n yesterday and today, b u t t h e s e less s h a k e n days I w o u l d h o l d like a r e s u r r e c t i o n to my breath. W h e n y o u find y o u r w a y o u t of t h e j e w e l - g r o o v e of y o u r l i m b s
a n d t h e u s e d - u p b i e e / c g o e s past

y o u r icy e y e l i d , already n o longer a n y o n e ' s , I will d i v e y o u b a c k t o e a r t h and pull it up w i t h y o u .

P A U L

M U L D O O N

B o r n P o r t a d o w n , C o u n t y A r m a g h , 1951. B r o u g h t up near the M o y , C o u n t y T y r o n e , and educated at St Patrick's College, Armagh, and Q u e e n ' s University Belfast, w h e r e he was taught by Seamus Heaney. W o r k e d for many years as a radio p r o d u c e r for the B B C in Belfast until m o v i n g to the U n i t e d States in the late 1980s. N o w lives in N e w Jersey, w h e r e he directs the creative w r i t i n g p r o g r a m m e at the University of Princeton. In addition to seven collections of poetry, M u l d o o n has written a libretto, Shining Brow (1992), and edited Hie Faber Book of Contemporary Irish Poetry (1986). M u l d o o n ' s sardonic virtuosity extends the limits of Irish poetic e n d e a v o u r even as it exposes t h e m . T h r o u g h a c o m b i n a t i o n of jokes, puns, m o c k rhymes, hallucinatory anecdotes and parodies, his verse offers a critique of the language habits fundamental to conflicting versions of Irish cultural identity. M u l d o o n is o n e of c o n t e m p o r a r y poetry's most accomplished practitioners of the long p o e m , to w h i c h in a characteristic paradox - he brings a miniaturist's eye for detail. A teasingly allusive extended w o r k has featured as the c o n c l u d i n g p o e m of each of his volumes since Mules (1977). T h e spoof sonnet sequence ' T h e M o r e a M a n Has the M o r e a M a n W a n t s ' (from Quoof 1983) is perhaps the most sustained of these, t h o u g h the 150-page elegiac fantasy ' Y a r r o w ' (from The Annals of Chile, 1994) equals it in invention and underlying seriousness. In charting the adventures of its shape-changing h e r o Gallogly - a figure based on the Trickster m y t h o l o g y of the W i n n e b a g o Indians - ' T h e M o r e a M a n Has . . .' sheds a phatasmagoric light on the deranged logic and ungainsayable violence of the Troubles. A k n o w l e d g e of the w o r k of R o b e r t Frost and Seamus H e a n e y will take the reader a considerable way through the n e t w o r k of allusion w h i c h can m a k e the p o e m ' s narrative structure difficult to discern on first e n c o u n t e r (the closing line of Frost's 'For O n c e , T h e n , S o m e t h i n g ' provides an indispensable key - ' T r u t h ? A pebble of quartz? For o n c e , t h e n , something').

L U N C H W I T H P A N C H O VILLA
I

'Is it really a r e v o l u t i o n , t h o u g h ? ' I r e a c h e d across t h e w i c k e r t a b l e W i t h another $10,000 question. My celebrated pamphleteer, C o - a u t h o r of such volumes As Blood on the Rose, The Dream And and the Drums, How It Happened Here,

W o u l d pour some untroubled Muscatel A n d settle b a c k i n his c a n e c h a i r . 'Look, son. Just look a r o u n d you. P e o p l e are g e t t i n g t h e m s e l v e s k i l l e d Left, r i g h t a n d c e n t r e While you do what? Write rondeaux? T h e r e ' s m o r e t o l i v i n g i n this c o u n t r y T h a n stars a n d h o r s e s , pigs a n d t r e e s , N o t that y o u ' d guess i t from y o u r p o e m s . D o y o u n e v e r listen t o t h e n e w s ? Y o u w a n t t o get d o w n t o s o m e t h i n g true, S o m e t h i n g a little n e a r e r h o m e . ' I called a g a i n l a t e r t h a t a f t e r n o o n , A quiet s u b u r b a n street. ' Y o u w a n t t o s t a n d b a c k a little W h e n t h e w o r l d ' s a t y o u r feet.' I'd have liked to have heard s o m e m o r e O f his f a m o u s r e v o l u t i o n . I rang the bell, and k n o c k e d hard O n w h a t I r e m e m b e r e d a s his f r o n t d o o r , T h a t o p e n e d then, as such doors d o , Directly on to a back yard.
II

N o t a n y b a c k y a r d , I ' m b o u n d t o say, A n d not a t h o u s a n d miles away f r o m h e r e . N o o n e ' s t a k e n in, I ' m s u r e ,

By such a m i l d i n v e n t i o n . B u t w h e r e ( I w o n d e r myself) d o I s t a n d , In relation to a table a n d chair, T h e quince-tre.e I forgot to m e n t i o n , T h a t suburban street, the d o o r , the yard All m a d e u p a s I w e n t a l o n g A s t h i n g s t h a t p e o p l e live a m o n g . A n d such a p e r s o n as lived there! My celebrated pamphleteer! O f c o u r s e , I g a v e i t all a w a y W i t h t h o s e p r e p o s t e r o u s titles. The Bloody Rose? The Dream and the Drums? T h e three-day-wonder of the flowering plum! Or was I desperately wishing To have been their other co-author. O r , a t least, t o o w n a first e d i t i o n Of The Boot Boys and Other Battles?

' W h e n are y o u g o i n g t o tell t h e t r u t h ? ' F o r t h e r e ' s n o s u c h b o o k , s o far a s I k n o w , As How it Happened Here, > ^ T h o u g h there may be. T h e r e may. W h a t s h o u l d I say t o this c a l l o w y o u t h W h o l e a r n e d t o w r i t e last w i n t e r O n e of those c o r r e s p o n d e n c e courses A n d w h o ' s c o m i n g t o lunch today? He'll be rambling on, no doubt, A b o u t pigs a n d t r e e s , stars a n d h o r s e s .
u

CUBA M y e l d e s t sister a r r i v e d h o m e t h a t m o r n i n g I n h e r w h i t e m u s l i n e v e n i n g dress. ' W h o t h e hell d o y o u t h i n k y o u a r e , R u n n i n g out to dances in next to nothing? As (hough we hadn't enough bother W i t h t h e w o i l d at w a r , il not at an e n d . ' M v l a t h e i was p o u n d i n g t h e breakfast table

' T h o s e Yankees w e r e t o u c h and go as it was If y o u ' d heard Patton in A r m a g h B u t this K e n n e d y ' s n e a r l y a n I r i s h m a n So he's not m u c h better than ourselves. A n d h i m w i t h o n l y t o say t h e w o r d . If you've got anything on your m i n d Maybe you should m a k e your peace with God.' I could hear M a y from b e y o n d the curtain. 'Bless m e , F a t h e r , for I h a v e s i n n e d . I t o l d a lie o n c e , I w a s d i s o b e d i e n t o n c e . And, Father, a b o y t o u c h e d me once.' ' T e l l m e , c h i l d . W a s this t o u c h i m m o d e s t ? D i d h e t o u c h y o u r b r e a s t , for e x a m p l e ? ' ' H e b r u s h e d against m e , F a t h e r . V e r y g e n t l y . '

ANSEO W h e n t h e M a s t e r w a s c a l l i n g t h e roll At the primary school in Collegelands, Y o u w e r e m e a n t t o call b a c k Anseo A n d raise y o u r h a n d As your name occurred. Anseo, m e a n i n g h e r e , h e r e a n d n o w , All p r e s e n t a n d c o r r e c t , W a s t h e first w o r d o f Irish I s p o k e . T h e last n a m e o n t h e l e d g e r Belonged to Joseph Mary Plunkett Ward A n d was followed, as often as n o t , By silence, k n o w i n g looks, A n o d and a w i n k , the Master's droll ' A n d w h e r e ' s o u r little W a r d - o f - c o u r t ? ' I r e m e m b e r t h e first t i m e h e c a m e b a c k T h e Master had sent h i m o u t Along the hedges T o w e i g h u p for h i m s e l f a n d c u t A stick w i t h w h i c h h e w o u l d b e b e a t e n .
After . 1 w h i l e - , n o t h i n g w.is s p o k e n ; Vln

He w o u l d arrive as a m a t t e r of course W i t h an ash-plant, a salley-rod. O r , finally, t h e h a z e l - w a n d He had whittled d o w n to a whip-lash, Its t w i s t o f r e d a n d y e l l o w l a c q u e r s Sanded and polished, A n d altogether so delicately w r o u g h t T h a t h e h a d e n g r a v e d his initials o n it. I last m e t J o s e p h M a r y P l u n k e t t W a r d I n a p u b j u s t o v e r t h e Irish b o r d e r . He was living in the o p e n , In a s e c r e t c a m p O n t h e o t h e r side o f t h e m o u n t a i n . H e w a s f i g h t i n g for I r e l a n d , M a k i n g things happen. A n d h e told m e , J o e W a r d , O f h o w h e had risen t h r o u g h t h e ranks To Quartermaster, Commandant: H o w every m o r n i n g at parade H i s v o l u n t e e r s w o u l d call b a c k Anseo A n d raise t h e i r h a n d s As their names occurred.

GATHERING MUSHROOMS T h e rain c o m e s flapping t h r o u g h t h e y a r d like a tablecloth that she h a n d - e m b r o i d e r e d . M y m o t h e r h a s left i t o n t h e l i n e . It is s o d d e n w i t h rain. T h e m u s h r o o m shed is windowless, wide, its h i g h - s t a c k e d w o o d e n trays f \ hosed d o w n w i t h formaldehyde. A n d m y f a t h e r has o p e n e d t h e G a t e s o f T r o y t o t h a t first l o a d o f h o r s e m a n u r e . W a g o n alter w a g o n b l u s t e r s in, a s e l f - r e n e w i n g g o l d - b l a c k d r a g o n

JrcJ>

Barley straw. G y p s u m . D r i e d b l o o d . A m m o n i a .

we push to the back of the m i n d . We have taken our pitchforks to the w i n d . All b r o u g h t b a c k t o m e t h a t S e p t e m b e r e v e n i n g fifteen y e a r s o n . T h e p a i r o f u s t r i p p i n g t h r o u g h B a r n e t t ' s fair d e m e s n e l i k e girls i n l o n g dresses after a h a i l - s t o r m . We might have been thinking of the fire-bomb that sent M a l o n e H o u s e sky-high a n d its priceless c o l l e c t i o n o f l i n e n sky-high. W e might have w e p t with Elizabeth M c C r u m . W e w e r e t h i n k i n g only o f psilocybin,. Y o u s a n g o f t h e m a i d y o u m e t o n t h e d e w y grass And she stooped so low gave me to know it was mushrooms she was gathering O. He'll be w e a r i n g that same old donkey-jacket and the sawn-off waders^ H e carries a k n i f e , t w o r m n n e t s , a b u c k e t . H e r e a c h e s far i n t o his o w n s h a d o w . We'll have taken h i m unawares a n d s t a n d b e h i n d h i m , slightly t o o n e s i d e . He is one of those ancient warriors before the rising tide. H e ' l l g l a n c e b a c k f r o m u n d e r his p e a k e d c a p without breaking rhythm: his c o a x i n g a m u s h r o o m - a flat or a c u p a cL^vvL^cL t h e n i c k against his right t h u m b ; t h e b u c k e t t h e n , t h e p u n n e t t o left o r r i g h t , a n d s o o n a n d s o f o r t h till k i n g d o m c o m e .
, QIj i..#-t

' -

'

W e followed the o v e r g r o w n t o w - p a t h b y the Lagan. T h e sunset w o u l d d e e p e n t h r o u g h c i n n a m o n to aubergine, t h e w o o d - p i g e o n ' s c o n c e r t o for o b o e a n d s t r i n g s , allegro, b l o w i n g y o u r m i n d . A n d you were suddenly out of my ken, hurtling towards the ever-receding ground, into the m a w 142

of a s h i m m e r i n g green-gold dragon. Y o u discovered yourself in some outbuilding with your long-lost c o m p a n i o n , m e , t h o u g h m y h e a d h a d g r o w n i n t o t h e h e a d o f a horset h a t s h o o k its d i r t y - f a i r m a n e a n d s p o k e this v e r s e : Come back to us. However cold and raw, your feet were always meant to negotiate terms with bare cement. Beyond this concrete wall is a wall of concrete and barbed wire. Your only hope is to come back. If sing you must, let your song tell oj treading your own dung,. let straw and dung give a spring to your step. If we never live to see the day we leap into our true domain, lie down with us now and wrap yourself in the soiled grey blanket of Irish rain that will, one day, bleach itself white. Lie down with us and wait.

T H E MORE A MAN HAS T H E MORE A MAN W A N T S At four in the m o r n i n g he wakes to the y a w n of brakes, t h e s n o r e o f a diesel e n g i n e . G o n e . All s h e left is a f r o t h of b r a a n d p a n t i e s . T h e scum of the Seine a n d t h e Farset. G a l l o g l y s q u a t s i n his o w n p e l t . A s o d i u m street light has b r o u g h t a n e w d i m e n s i o n to their black taxi. By t h e t i m e t h e y force an e n t r y
he'll h a v e s k e d a d d l e d a m o n g h e n runs a n d pigeon lofts.

T h e c h a r t e r flight f r o m F l o r i d a touched d o w n at Aldergrove m i n u t e s earlier, at 3 . 5 4 a . m . Its e x c e s s b a g g a g e t a k e s t h e f o r m of Mangas Jones, Esquire, w h o is, a s i t t u r n s o u t , A p a c h e . H e carries o n l y h a n d l u g g a g e . 'Anything to declare?' He opens the powder-blue attachecase. ' A p e b b l e o f q u a r t z . ' 'You're an Apache?' 'Mescalero.' H e follows the corridor's a r r o y o till t h e signs r e a d Hertz. H e i s g o i n g t o p u t his f o o t d o w n on a patch of waste g r o u n d along the Stranmillis e m b a n k m e n t w h e n h e gets w i n d o f t h e i r i m p r o m p t u fire. T h e air a b o v e t h e o n c e - s w e e t s t r e a m is a q u a r i u m drained. A n d six, m a y b e s e v e n , s k i n h e a d s have formed a q u o r u m r o u n d a b u r n t - o u t heavy-duty tyre. S o i n t e n t o n sniffing g l u e they m a y n o t notice Gallogly, o r , i f t h e y d o , a r e s o far g o n e . T h r e e m i l e s w e s t a s t h e c r o w flies an all-night carry-out provides the cover for a n illegal d r i n k i n g c l u b . W h i l e the bar m a n unpacks a crate of Coca-Cola, one cool customer t a k e s o n all c o m e r s i n a v i d e o g a m e . H e grasps w h a t his t w o a c o l y t e s h a v e failed t o s e i z e . D o n ' t they k n o w what kind of take-away
\\\

this is, t h e glipes? Vietmanese. Viet-ma-friggin'-kmr. .. H e d r o p s his p a y l o a d o f n a p a l m . G a l l o g l y is w e a r i n g a c a n d y - s t r i p e king-size sheet, a little s o m e t h i n g h e p i c k e d u p off a c l o t h e s l i n e . He is d r i v i n g a milk van h e b o r r o w e d f r o m t h e Belfast C o - o p while the m i l k m a n ' s back was turned. H e h a d g i v e n t h e m i l k m a n a playful rabbit p u n c h . W h e n h e s t e p p e d o n t h e gas he flooded t h e street w i t h b r o k e n glass. He is trying to k e e p a l o w profile. T h e u n m a r k e d p o l i c e car d r a w s l e v e l w i t h his last a d d r e s s . A sergeant and eight constables pile o u t of a t e n d e r a n d h a m m e r u p t h e stairs. T h e s t r e e t bristles w i t h static. T h e i r sniffer d o g , a L a b r a d o r b i t c h , b u r s t s i n t o t h e attic like D a v i d B a l f o u r in Kidnapped. A c o n s t a b l e o n his first d a w n s w o o p leans on a s h o v e l H e has t u r n e d o v e r a n e w leaf i n h e r l a d y s h i p ' s h e r b p a t c h . T h e y ' l l t a k e i t b a c k for analysis. All a b i t m u c h after t h e n i g h t shift to m e e t a m i l k m a n w h o ' s d o u b l e - p a r k e d his v a n c l o s i n g y o u r f r o n t d o o r after h i m . I Ic's s p o r t i n g y o u r D o n e g a l t w e e d suit a n d y o u r
S u n d a y s h o e s a n d p o l i t e l y raises y o m
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hat as he goes by. Y o u stand there w i t h y o u r m o u t h o p e n as he climbs into the still-warm d r i v i n g seat o f y o u r C o r t i n a a n d s c r e e c h e s off t o w a r d s t h e m o t o r w a y , leaving you uncertain o f y o u r s t i l l - w a r m w i f e ' s d a m p tuft. S o m e o n e o n t h e i r w a y t o early M a s s will find h e r h o g - t i e d to t h e c h a p e l gates O C h i l d of P r a g u e big-eyed, anorexic. T h e l e s s o n for t o d a y is pinned to her b o m b e r jacket. It s e e m s to r e a d Keep off the Grass. H e r l o v e l y h e a d has b e e n c h o p p e d and changed. F o r B e a t r i c e , w h o s e fathers k n e w Louis Q u i n z e , t o h a v e c o m e t o t h i s , h e r perruque o f tar a n d f e a t h e r s . He is pushing the maroon Cortina t h r o u g h the sedge on the banks of the Callan. It t o o k h i m a m e r e forty m i n u t e s t o skite u p t h e M l . H e f o l l o w e d t h e e x i t sign for L o u g h g a l l a n d h a r e d a m o n g the t o p - h e a v y apple orchards. This stretch of the A r m a g h / T y r o n e border was planted by W a r w i c k s h i r e m e n w h o planted in turn t h e i r familiar q u i c k - s e t d a m s o n h e d g e s . T h e Cortina goes to the b o t t o m . Gallogly swallows a p l u m m y - p l u m - p l u m . T i l w a r r a n t t h e m ' s t h e very pair o' boys I seen abroad in McParland's b o t t o m , though where
I -K,

in u n d e r G o d for thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate w h e r e they c o m e from G o d only k n o w s . ' ' T h e y w e r e m a d for a b i t e o ' m a t e , I s'pose.' T d o u b t s o . I c o m e across a b r a v e d a l e o' half-chawed damsels. Wanst w u n disappeared I follied t h e w u n as yelly as I n d y m a l e . ' ' Y e w e r e n ' t afeared?' ' I follied h i m . ' ' G o d save u s . ' ' A n ' he driv a w a y in a van b e l o n g i n ' t ' / l r . ' T h e grass s p r i g h t l y a s A s t r o t u r f i n t h e S e p t e m b e r frost and a mist here where the ground is low. H e seizes his o w n w r i s t as if, as if Blind P e w again seized J i m a t t h e sign o f t h e ' A d m i r a l B e n b o w ' . As if J i m H a w k i n s led Blind P e w t o Billy B o n e s a n d t h e y w e r e all o n e a n d t h e s a m e , h e stares i n d i s b e l i e f at an A s p r i n - w h i t e spot he pressed i n t o his o w n p a l m . Gallogly's t h o r n - p r o o f t w e e d jacket i s n o w s e v e r a l sizes t o o b i g . H e has f l o p p e d d o w n in a hay shed to ram a w a d of hay into the toe o f e a c h o f his i l l - f i t t i n g b r o g u e s , w h e n h e g e t s t h e drift of h a m and eggs. N o w h e ' s l e d b y his o w n w e t n o s e to the hacienda-style farmhouse, a baggy-kneed animated
be.ii d r a w n o u t o l t h e w o o d s b y a n a p p l e pie

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She was standing at the picture w i n d o w w i t h a glass o f w a t e r and a Valium w h e n she c a u g h t y o u r m a n i n t h e r e f l e c t i o n o f h e r face. He came s h a p i n g past t h e m i l k i n g p a r l o u r as if he o w n e d the place. Such is the integrity of their quarrel that she i m m e d i a t e l y t o o k d o w n t h e legally h e l d s h o t g u n a n d let h i m h a v e b o t h b a r r e l s . S h e h a d w a n t e d o n l y t o clear t h e air. H a l f a m i l e a w a y across t h e v a l l e y h e r h u s b a n d ' s UDR p a t r o l is m o u n t i n g a c h e c k - p o i n t . H e p r i c k s u p his ears at the crack of h e r p r e m a t u r e l y arthritic h i p joint, and commandeers one of the jeeps. T h e r e n o w , only a p o w d e r burn as if h e r mascara had r u n . T h e bloody puddle i n t h e y a r d , a n d t h e shilly-shally of b l o o d like a c o m m a n d w i r e petering out behind a milk churn. A hole in t h e heart, an ovarian cyst. C o m i n g up the Bann in a b u b b l e . D i s a p p e a r i n g u p his o w n b u m . O r , r u n n i n g o n the spot w i t h all t h e m i n o r a p l o m b of a t r i c k - c y c l i s t . S o t h i n , s i d e - o n , y o u c o u l d spit through him. H i s six foot of p u m p w a t e r

bent double in agony or laughter. Keeping d o w n - w i n d of everything. White Annetts. Gillyflowers. Angel Bites.

W h e n he names the forgotten names of apples h e has t h e m all off p a t . H i s e y e l i k e t h e e y e o f a t r a v e l l i n g rat lights o n t h e s t u d i e d n e g l i g e n c e o f t h e s e s c r a w s o f turf. A tarpaulin. A w a t e r l o g g e d pit. H e will take stock o f t h e Kalashnikov's f i l e d - d o w n serial n u m b e r , s e v e n sticks o f u n s t a b l e commercial gelignite that have already b e g u n to w e e p . Red Strokes. Sugar Sweet. Widows Whelps.

B u y h i m a drink and he'll regale y o u w i t h h o w h e c a m e i n for a c u r e o n e m o r n i n g after t h e n i g h t b e f o r e t o t h e Las Vegas L o u n g e a n d C a b a r e t . He was crossing the bar's eternity of p a r q u e t floor w h e n his e a g l e e y e saw s o m e t h i n g m o v e o n the h o r i z o n . If it w a s n ' t an Indian. A Sioux. An ugly Sioux. He means, of course, an Oglala S i o u x busily tracing t h e family tree of an Ulsterman w h o had some hand in the massacre at W o u n d e d K n e e . H e will a n s w e r t h e h e d g e - s p a r r o w ' s Littlehitofhreadandnocheese with a whole bunch of freshly p i c k e d w a t e r c r e s s , a b u l b of garlic, sorrel, w i i l i m a n y fat c t e d bla< kbcn<

Gallogly is o u t to lunch. W h e n his c o c k rattles its sabre h e t a k e s i t i n his d a b h a n d , p l a n t s o n e c h a s t e kiss o n its f o r e l o c k , a n d t h e n , w i t h a b i r l a n d a skirl, tosses it off like a c a b e r . T h e UDR c o r p o r a l h a d c o m e off d u t y t o b e w i t h his w i f e w h i l e t h e o t h e r s set a b o u t a follow-up search. W h e n he t r a m p e d out just before twelve to exercise the g r e y h o u n d h e w a s h i t b y a single h i g h - v e l o c i t y shot. Y o u c o u l d , i f y o u l i k e , p u t y o u r fist in the exit w o u n d in his c h e s t . H e slumps i n t h e s p u m e o f his o w n arterial b l o o d l i k e a n o v e r t u r n e d paraffin l a m p . G a l l o g l y lies d o w n i n t h e s h e u g h to munch t h r o u g h a B e a u t y of B a t h . H e r e p e a t s himself, Bath, u n d e r his g a r l i c - b r e a t h . Sheugh, he says. Sheugh. H e i s f i n d i n g t h a t first ' s h ' i n c r e a s i n g l y difficult t o m a n a g e . 5/z-leeps. A m i l k m a i d sinks her bare foot to the ankle i n a s i m m e r i n g d u n g hill a n d fills t h e slot w i t h b e a s t l i n g s for h i m t o d r i n k . In Ovid's conspicuously tongue-in-cheek a c c o u n t of an eyeball t o eyeball
V,i)

b e t w e e n the goddess Leto and a s h o w e r of Lycian reed cutters w h o refuse h e r a c u p o f c l o u d y water from their c h u r n e d - u p lake, Live then forever in that lake of yours, s h e cries, a n d has t h e m bubble and squeak and p l o n k t h e m s e l v e s d o w n as bullfrogs i n t h e i r icy j i s s o m . A c o u n t r y m a n k n e e l s o n his c a p b e s i d e his n e i g h b o u r ' s fresh grave-mud as G a l l o g l y k n e e l s to lap the primrose-yellow custard. T h e k n e e s o f his h a n d - m e - d o w n d u d s are g i n g e r i s h . A pernickety sevenyear-old girl-child parades in h e r m o t h e r ' s trousseau and mumbles a primrose K l e e n e x tissue t o m a k e s u r e h e r lipstick's e v e n . G a l l o g l y has o n l y t o p a r t t h e v e i l o f its s t o m a c h w a l l to get right u n d e r t h e skin, the spluttering heart and collapsed lung, o f t h e h o r s e i n Guernica. H e flees t h e M u s e u m o f M o d e r n A r t w i t h its b i t b e t w e e n his t e e t h . W h e n he began to cough blood, H a m s u n rode the Minneapolis/ N e w Y o r k n i g h t train on top of the dining-car.
( >i>r l o n g , i n w a r d b o w l

A portei drinkci without a thrapple,

Ml

A w e e k e n d trip to the m o u n t a i n s North of Boston w i t h Alice, Alice A. a n d h e r paprika hair, the ignition key t o h e r family's W i n n e b a g o c a m p e r , her quim b i t i n g t h e l e g off h e r . In the oyster bar of G r a n d Central Station she gobbles a d o z e n C h e s a p e a k e s ' O h , I ' m n o t particular as to size' a n d , w i t h a flourish o f t a b a s c o , turns to gobble him. A b r e w e r y lorry on a r o u t i n e delivery is t a k i n g a s l o w , dangerous bend. T h e driver's blethering his c o d e n a m e over the Citizens' Band w h e n s o m e o n e ambles i n front o f h i m . G o , J o h n n y , G o , G o , G o . He's been dry-gulched by a sixteen-year-old n u m b with Mogadon, w h o s e face i s m a s k e d b y t h e s e a m l e s s black stocking filched f r o m his m u m . W h e n w h o should walk in but Beatrice, l a r g e as life, or l a r g e r , s i p p i n g h e r o n e glass o f l a g e r and singing her o n e song. I f h e h a d i t t o d o all o v e r again h e w o u l d let h e r s h a v e his h e a d in memory of'98 and her o w n , the French, Revolution. T h e son of the K i n g of the M o y m e t this c h i l d o n t h e R o x b o r o u g h e s t a t e . Noblesse, s h e said. Noblesse
V,.'

oblige. A n d h e r t i n y n i p p l e s w e r e bruise-bluish, wild raspberries. T h e s o n g she sang was ' T h e C r o p p y B o y ' . Her grand'mere w a s o n c e a s k e d to tea by G e r t r u d e Stein, a n d h e r grand 'mere a n d G e r t r u d e a n d A l i c e B . , chere A l i c e B . with her hook-nose, t h e t h r e e o f t h e m sat i n t h e n u d e r o u n d t h e p e t i t s fours a n d r e p e a t e d Eros is Eros is Eros. I f h e h a d i t t o d o all o v e r again h e w o u l d still b e t a k e n i n by her Alice B. Toklas Nameless Cookies and those n e w w o r d s she h a d h i m learn: h a s h , h a s h i s h , lo perfido assassin. O n c e t h e l o c a l c o u n c i l l o r straps h i m s e l f i n t o t h e safety b e l t o f his C i t r o e n a n d skids u p t h e r a m p f r o m t h e m u n i c i p a l car p a r k he upsets the delicate balance of a m e r c u r y - t i l t boobytrap. O n c e t h e y c o l l e c t his s m i t h e r e e n s he doesn't quite add up. T h e y ' r e s h y of a f o o t , a n d a calf w h i c h stems f r o m his left s h o e l i k e a s e v e r e l y pruned-back shrub. T e n years b e f o r e . T h e s m o o t h - a s - a front-lawn at Q u e e n ' s w h e r e she squats before a psilocybin god. T h e indomitable gentle-bush
that h a d I a n y o n o r I y n n

revise t h e n elegant g r o u n d p l a n

for t h e u n i v e r s i t y q u a d . With calmness, with breast milk, with care, with dew.

There's no cure now. There's nothing left to do. T h e m u s h r o o m s speak t h r o u g h her. Hush-hush. 'Oh, Alice I'm not particular as to size,' replied

hastily

and broke off a bit of the edge with each hand and set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then the other. O n t h e S t a t e n Island F e r r y t w o m e n are d i c k e r i n g over the price of a s h i p m e n t of Armalites, as H e n r y T h o r e a u was w o n t to quibble with Ralph W a l d o Emerson. T h a t last n i g h t i n t h e A l g o n q u i n h e m e t w i t h a flurry o f sprites, the assorted shades of Wolfe T o n e , Napper Tandy, a sanguine Michael Cusack b r a n d i s h i n g his b l a c k t h o r n . Then, Thomas Meagher darts u p f r o m t h e M i s s o u r i o n a ray o f t h e m o r n i n g star t o f i e r c e l y ask w h a t has b e c o m e o f Irish h u r l i n g . Everyone has heard the story of a strong and beautiful bug which came out of the dry leaf

of an old table of apple-tree wood that stood in a farmer's kitchen in Massachusetts and which was heard gnawing out

for several weeks

W h e n t h e p h o n e trills he is careful n o t to lose his p a g e Who knows what beautiful and winged life whose egg has been buried for ages may unexpectedly come forth? 'Tell-tale.'

G a l l o g l y carries a h u n t i n g b o w equipped w i t h a b o w sight and a quiver of hunting arrows belonging to her brother. A l i c e has g o n e a little w a y off to do her j o b . A t i m b e r wolf, a caribou, o r m e r e l y a t r i c k o f t h e light? A s , listlessly, he lobs an arrow into the undergrowth. H a d you followed the river Callan's Pelorus Jack through the worst drought in living m e m o r y t o t h e rains o f early A u t u m n w h e n i t s c r u b s its s w o l l e n , scab-encrusted back under a bridge, the bridge you look d o w n from, you w o u l d be unlikely to pay m u c h h e e d to yet a n o t h e r old b a n g e r n o o n e c o u l d b e b o t h e r e d t o tax, or a b e a t - u p fridge
well si o< k e d w i t h g e l i g n i t e ,

D i s o m e five h u n d r e d yards o l ( !ortcx

H e l o p e s after t h e d r i b s o f b l o o d t h r o u g h t h e p i n e forest till t h e y s t o p d e a d in the ruins of a l o n g h o u s e or hogan. S o m e h o w , h e finds his w a y back to their tent. N o t so m u c h as a whiff of her musk. T h e girl b e h i n d t h e A e r L i n g u s c h e c k - i n desk at Logan is w e a r i n g the same scent a n d a n e m b r o i d e r e d capital l e t t e r A on h e r breast. Was she Aurora, Artemidora, or or the goddess Flora, Venus bright, the Grecian sight?

or Helen fair beyond compare that Priam stole from Quite modestly she answered me and she gave her head one fetch up and she said I am gathering musheroons to make my mammy ketchup. T h e dunt and dunder of a c u l v e r t - b o m b wakes him as it might have w o k e Leander. And she said I am gathering musheroons to make my mammy ketchup O.

P r e d i c t a b l e a s t h e gift o f t h e g a b or a drop of the craythur h e n o s e s r o u n d t h e six f o o t d e e p crater. Oblivious to their Landrover's olive-drab and the B u r g u n d y berets of a snatch-squad of Paratroopers. Gallogly, or Gollogly, otherwise k n o w n as Golightly, otherwise k n o w n as Ingoldsby, 156

otherwise k n o w n as English, gives f o r t h o n e l o w c r y o f a n g u i s h and agrees to c o m e quietly. T h e y h a v e b u n d l e d h i m i n t o t h e cell for a s t r i p search. He perches o n t h e balls o f his t o e s , m y m y , w i t h his legs s p r e a d till b o t h his i n s t e p a r c h e s fall. He holds himself at arm's l e n g t h f r o m t h e brilliantly S n o w c e m - e d wall, a g a m e bird h u n g b y its p i n i o n tips till i t d r o p s , i n t h e fullness o f t i m e , f r o m t h e m a s t its c o l o u r s are n a i l e d t o . T h e y h a v e left h i m t o c o o l his h e e l s after t h e o b l i g a t o r y bath, the m u g shots, fingerprints et cetera. He plumps the thin bolster and hints at t h e slop b u c k e t . Six o ' c l o c k . F r o m t h e A W i n g o f A r m a g h jail h e can m a k e o u t t h e A n g e l u s bell of St Patrick's cathedral and a chorus o f ' F o r G o d and Ulster'. T h e b r e w e r y l o r r y ' s s t o o d a t a list by t h e Las Vegas throughout the afternoon, its off-side r e a r tyres d o w n . A s y e t , n o o n e has l o o k e d a g o g
at ol the smuts and i lists

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i n disarray o n t h e p a s s e n g e r seat. An almost invisible, taut fishing l i n e runs from the Playmate's navel to a p i v o t a l beer keg. A s y e t , n o o n e has r i s e n t o t h e b a i t . / saw no mountains, no magical growth nothing of buildings, no enormous spaces, and metamorphosis remotely like

a drama or a parable in w h i c h he dons these lime-green dungarees, green Wellingtons, a g r e e n h e l m e t of aspect terrible. The other world to which mescalin admitted me was not the world of visions; it existed out there, in what I could see with my eyes open. H e straps a c h e m i c a l p a c k o n his b a c k and goes in search of s o m e G a w a i n . Gallogly pads along the block t o raise his v i s o r a t t h e first p e e p - h o l e . H e shamelessly takes in h e r lean piglet's back, the back and boyish hams of a girl at s t o o l . At last. A t i n y g o a t ' s - p i l l . A s t u b of c r a y o n w i t h w h i c h s h e has s q u i g g l e d a shamrock, yes, b u t a s h a m r o c k after t h e s c h o o l of Pollock, Jackson Pollock. / stopped and stared at her face to face and on the spot a name came to me, a name with a smooth, nervous sound:

Ylayali. When she was very close I drew myself up straight and said in an impressive voice, 'Miss, you are losing your book.' A n d B e a t r i c e , for i t i s s h e , s h e s q u i n t s through the spy-hole t o pass h i m a n o r a n g e , a n O u t s p a n o r a n g e s o m e v i s i t o r has s p i k e d w i t h a syringe-ful of vodka. Tlie more a man has the more a man wants, the same I don't think true. For I never met a man with one black eye who ever wanted two. In t h e Las Vegas L o u n g e a n d C a b a r e t the resident g r o u p p o t bellies, A r a n knits have you eating out of their hands. Never throw a brick at a drowning man when you're near to a grocer's store. Just throw him a cake of Sunlight soap, let him wash himself ashore. Y o u w i l l act t h e g a l o o t , a n d g a l l i v a n t , a n d call for a n o t h e r e n c o r e . Gallogly, Gallogly, O Gallogly juggles his n a m e l i k e a n o r a n g e b e t w e e n his o u t s i z e baseball g l o v e paws, a n d ogles a m o o n that's just out of range b e y o n d the p e r i m e t e r wall. He works a gobbet of Brylcreem i n t o his q u i f f and delves t h r o u g h sand and gravel,
sill U g g l l l g It nil

his v e l v e t e e n s h o u l d e r s a n d ai ms

Just throw him a cake of Sunlight soap, let him wash himself ashore. Into a picture by Edward H o p p e r of a gas s t a t i o n in the m i d - W e s t w h e r e H o p p e r t a k e s a s his t h e m e light, the s p o o k y g l o w o f a n i l l u m i n a t e d sign r e a d i n g Esso o r M o b i l or w h a t - h a v e - y o u into such a desolate oval ride t w o youths on a motorbike. A h a n d g u n . Balaclavas. T h e p u m p attendant's g r o w n so used t o h o l d - u p s h e calls after t h e m : Beannacht D ar an obair. T h e p u m p attendant's not to k n o w he's b e i n g w a t c h e d by a gallowglass hot-foot from a w o o d c u t by Derricke w h o skips across t h e f o r e c o u r t and kicks the black plastic b u c k e t t h e y left as a m e m e n t o . N o r is t h e gallowglass any t h e wiser. T h e b u c k e t ' s p a c k e d w i t h fertilizer and a heady brew
J60

of sugar a n d paraquat's r e l e n t l e s s l y g n a w i n g its w a y t h r o u g h the floppy k n o t of a D u r e x . I t w a s this s e l f - s a m e p u m p a t t e n d a n t w h o dragged the head and torso clear and m o u t h e d an Act of Contrition i n t h e frazzled e a r and overheard t h o s e a l r e a d y - f a m o u s last w o r d s Moose . . . Indian. ' N e x t o f all w u s t h e h a n ' . ' ' B e J a p e r s . ' ' T h e sodgers c o r d o n n e d - o f f t h e area wi' what-ye-may-call-it tape.' ' L u n i m o u s . ' ' T h e y f o u n ' this h a i r y han' w i ' a d r o w n e d e d m a n ' s grip on a l u n i m o u s stone no bigger than a . . . ' 'Huh.'

S O M E T H I N G ELSE W h e n y o u r l o b s t e r w a s lifted o u t o f t h e t a n k to be weighed I t h o u g h t of w o a d , of m a d d e r s , of fugitive, indigo inks, of h o w Nerval was given to p r o m e n a d e a l o b s t e r on a g o s s a m e r t h r e a d , h o w , w h e n a decent interval h a d passed (son front rouge encor du haiser de la reitie) a n d his h o p e s of A d r i e n n e

p r o v e d false, he hanged himself from a lamp-post with a length of chain, w h i c h m a d e me think o f s o m e t h i n g else, t h e n s o m e t h i n g else a g a i n .

CAULIFLOWERS Plants that glow in the dark have been developed through gene-splicing, in which light-producing bacteria from the mouths of fish are introduced to cabbage, carrots and potatoes. Tlie National Enquirer M o r e o f t e n t h a n n o t h e s t o p s a t t h e h e a d r i g t o lig his p i p e a n d try to regain his c o m p o s u r e . T h e p r i c e o f c a u l i f l o w e r s has g o n e d o w n t w o w e e k s i n a r o w o n t h e Belfast m a r k e t . F r o m here w e can just m a k e out a p l a t o o n of L i g h t Infantry g o i n g d o w n the road to the a c c o m p a n i m e n t of a p i p e b a n d . T h e s u n glints o n t h e i r s i l v e r buttoned jerkins. M y uncle, Patrick Regan, has b e e n l e a n i n g against t h e m u d - g u a r d o f the lorry. H e levers o p e n the b o n n e t and tinkers w i t h a light w r e n c h at the hose-pipe that's always g o i n g d o w n . T h e n h e himself goes d o w n t o b l e e d oil i n t o a j e r r y - c a n . M y f a t h e r slips t h e p i p e i n t o his s c o r c h - m a r k e d

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b r e a s t p o c k e t a n d a g a i n m a k e s light of the t r e p a n n e d cauliflowers. All this as I l i s t e n e d to l o v e r s repeatedly going d o w n on each o t h e r in the n e x t r o o m . . . 'light o f m y life . . . ' i n a m o t e l i n O r e g o n . All this. M a g r i t t e ' s pipe and the pipeb o m b . W h i t e Annetts. Gillyflowers. Margaret, are y o u grieving? M y father g o i n g d o w n the primrose path w i t h Patrick Regan. All g o n e o u t o f t h e w o r l d o f l i g h t . All g o n e d o w n the original pipe. A n d the cauliflowers i n a n u n m a r k e d pit, that w e r e harvested b y their o w n light.

N U A L A

D H O M H N A I L L

Born Lancashire, 1952. G r e w up in N e n a g h , C o u n t y Tipperary, and in west Kerry Gaeltacht. Educated at University College C o r k . Spent most of the 1970s in T u r k e y . N o w lives in Dublin. In a b u n d a n c e and variety Nuala Ni D h o m h n a i l l ' s w o r k surpasses that of any o t h e r m o d e r n poet in Irish. T h o u g h m u c h of her imagery is drawn from c o m m u n a l sources such as folklore and Catholic symbology, it serves a questioning, roguishly h e t e r o d o x p o i n t of view. Earthy, generous and democratic, Ni D h o m h n a i l l ' s p o e m s are also graceful and sophisticated. She cites J o h n Berryman as a liberating influence and her w r i t i n g shares s o m e t h i n g of the American poet's delight in mixing registers and in juggling high and low cultural references. An unfussy experimentalism can be seen alike in her e m p l o y m e n t of a range of lyric and narrative m o d e s and in her approach to the poetic line. W h i l e many of her p o e m s invite a feminist interpretation, others (deliberately?) resist it. 'Caitlin' offers a rare excursion into political c o m m e n t a r y , its uproarious spirit inventively caught in Paul M u l d o o n ' s translation. As the versions of M o n t a g u e , Hartnett and M u l d o o n testify, Ni D h o m h n a i l l has b e e n a key figure in c o n t i n u i n g the dialogue b e t w e e n the poetries of Ireland's t w o languages.

SCALA Do chuimhnigh si go deireadh thiar ar scil an aingil sa t e a m p a l l , cleitearnach sciathn ina t i m p e a l l ; is diseacht le d o r d c o l r is stealladh ga g r i n e ar fhallai a o l c l o c h an l a fuair si an scala. E sid d'imigh is n'fheadar ar c h u i m h n i g h r i a m h ar cad a d ' e a s c a i r na cheathrna, dh m h l e bliain d ' i o m p a r croise de d h i t e n is deatach, de chlampar c h o m h hard l e spc n a V a t a c i n e . O, a mhaighdean rcheansa, nr chuala trcht ar i n n e r i a m h ag teacht c h u g h a t sa d o i r c h e a c h t cosnocht, dadgheal is a s h i l e ln de r g a i r e a c h t .

FAR SUAITHINSEACH N u a i r a b h s i do s h a g a r t naofa i lr an A i f r i n n , faoi do r b a c o r c r a t ' f h a l l a i n g ln, d o stl, d o chasal, do c h o n n a i c i s m ' a g h a i d h s e ins .in slua

ANNUNCIATIONS She r e m e m b e r e d to the very e n d the angelic vision in the temple: the flutter of wings about her noting the noise of doves, sun-rays raining o n l i m e - w h i t e walls t h e day she got the tidings. He he w e n t away and perhaps forgot w h a t g r e w f r o m his l o i n s t w o t h o u s a n d years of c a r r y i n g a cross t w o t h o u s a n d years o f s m o k e a n d fire of r o w s that r e a c h e d a greater span t h a n all t h e spires o f t h e V a t i c a n . Remember o most t e n d e r virgin M a r y that n e v e r was it k n o w n that a m a n c a m e to y o u in the darkness alone, his feet b a r e , his t e e t h w h i t e a n d r o g u e r y s w e l l i n g i n his e y e s . translated by Michael Hartnett

MIRACULOUS GRASS T h e r e you were in your purple vestments h a l f - w a y t h r o u g h t h e Mass, a n o r d a i n e d priest u n d e r y o u r l i n e n alb a n d c h a s u b l e a n d s t o l e : a n d w h e n y o u saw my face in t h e c r o w d

a b h ag teacht c h u n comaoineach chughat is thit uait an abhlainn b h e a n n a i t h e . M i s e , n d r t a o n n i ina t h a o b h . B h nire o r m . B h i glas a r m o b h a l . A c h fs do luigh s ar mo chroi m a r d h e a l g l i b e , g u r d h e i n s sli d f h i n istigh i m a e i s i m lr g u r d h b a i r g o b h f a i g h i n n bs d b h a r r . N i fada n g u r t h i t e a s ' o n l e a b a i d h ; o i d e a s a i leighis d o t r i a i l e a d h i n a g c a d t a i b h , d o t h i n i g c h u g h a m d o c h t i r , sagairt i s b r i t h r e i s n ' f h a d a d a r m a t h a b h a i r t c h u n slinte a c h t h u g a d a r suas i s e i l b h b h i s m . Is t i g a m a c h , a fheara, t u g a g l i b h r m h a i n n is speala c o r r i n , grafin is sluaiste. Rabag an seanafhothrach, bearraig na sceacha, glanaig an luifearnach, a n slmas fis, a n b r u s , a n a i n n i s e a fhs a r t h a l a m h ban m o t h u b a i s t e . I s ins a n i o n a d i n a r t h i t a n c h o m a o i n e naofa f a c h g o m b e i d h i lr an b h i o r l a m a i s istigh toirtn d'fhar suaithinseach. T a g a d h a n sagart i s l e n a m h i r e a n n a b e i r e a d h s g o h a i c l i a r a n g c o m a o i n e naofa is tugtar c h u g h a m i, ar mo theanga lefaidh si, is i r e o d a n i a r sa leaba c h o m h sln follin is a b h i o s is m i mo l e a n b h .

for H o l y C o m m u n i o n t h e c o n s e c r a t e d h o s t fell f r o m y o u r fingers. I felt s h a m e , I n e v e r mentioned it once, m y lips w e r e sealed. B u t still i t l u r k e d i n m y h e a r t like a t h o r n u n d e r m u d , a n d i t w o r k e d itself i n s o d e e p a n d s h e e r it nearly killed m e . N e x t t h i n g t h e n , I w a s laid u p i n b e d . Consultants came in their hundreds, d o c t o r s a n d b r o t h e r s a n d priests, b u t I baffled t h e m all: I w a s i n c u r a b l e , t h e y left m e for d e a d . So out y o u go, m e n , o u t w i t h the spades and scythes, the h o o k s and shovels and hoes. Tackle the rubble, c u t b a c k t h e b u s h e s , clear off t h e r u b b i s h , t h e s a p p y g r o w t h , t h e w h o l e straggle a n d m e s s t h a t infests m y g r e e n u n f o r t u n a t e field. A n d t h e r e w h e r e t h e s a c r e d w a f e r fell y o u will d i s c o v e r in the middle of the shooting weeds a cl imp of m i r a c u l o u s grass. T h e pncsi will have t o c o m e t h e n w i t h his d e l i c a t e fingers, a n d lift t h e h o s t and bring it to me and put it on my t o n g u e . W h e r e i t will m e l t , a n d I will rise i n t h e b e d as fit a n d w e l l as t h e y o u n g s t e r I u s e d to b e . translated by Seamus Heaney

AN BHABOG BHRISTE A b h b i g n b h r i s t e ins an t o b a r , caite i s t e a c h a g l e a n b h a r b h o g s h o d a r a n u a s le f a n a i d h , isteach faoi c h t a a m h t h a r . Ghlac s p r e a b in uaigneas an chlapsholais n u a i r a l i m c a i p n n a b p c a peill c h u n a b h i l , nuair a c h r o m na maracin a g c e a n n a i b h ina t h r e o is n u a i r a c h u a l a s uaill c h i i n n g c e a n n cait ins an dair. Ba dhbair n go dtitfeadh an t - a n a m beag as nuair a ghaibh e a s g t h a r b r a i d i s p a t a i r e c o i n i n aici ina b a l , n a p u t g a a r sileadh leis a r m a i d a n bhaill is n u a i r a d h ' e i t i l an s c i a t h n l e a t h a i r ins an spir. T h e i t h s go g l r a c h is r i a m h s h i n t n n t m a r fhinn sora ar an g h o i n on t s a i g h e a d a b h u a i l a c h l u a i s ; b i t e sa lib t ' f h i a r s h i l p h l a i s t e a c h oscailte d e l o is d ' o c h e , c h o n n t an m a d r a r u a is a hl ag teacht go bruach na fithe raithni taobh lena bpluais i s iad a g o l a sith; t a g a n n a n b r o c c h o m h m a i t h a n n is n i o n n a lapa; s n n s a s h o e san u i s c e is l a n p h t r i n t a g a n n n a d a o i n e i s c a s a n n siad s e a c h t n - u a i r e a r deiseal; l e g a c h c a s a d h c a i t h e a n n siad c l o c h san u i s c e . T i t e a n n na clocha beaga seo anuas ort. T i t e a n n , leis, n a c n n n a n g c r a n n coill at a r d h e i s a n t o b a i r i s i r e o i r r e a m h a r i s feasach m a r b h r e a c beannaithe sa draoib. Tiocfaidh an spideog b h r o i n n d e a r g de m h u i n t i r Shilleabhin is lena heireabaillin danfaidh si leacht meala de uisci uachtair an tobair i s l e a c h t fola d e n o c h t a r , f s n i b h e i d h c o r r a i asat. T a o i t e a n n t a i t h e g o s o r a ins a n lib, d o m h u i n e l t a c h t a i t h e l e s r e a n g a n n a lobelia. C h i m d o m h l a g s t n a d h o r m g a n tls as g a c h p o l l s n m h a , as g a c h l o c h n , O p h e l i a .

wo

T H E BROKEN DOLL 0 little b r o k e n d o l l , d r o p p e d i n t h e w e l l ,

t h r o w n aside b y a c h i l d , s c a m p e r i n g d o w n h i l l t o h i d e u n d e r t h e skirts o f his m o t h e r ! I n twilight's q u i e t h e t o o k s u d d e n fright a s t o a d s t o o l caps s n a t c h e d a t his t o n g u e , f o x g l o v e s c r o o k e d t h e i r fingers a t h i m a n d f r o m t h e o a k , h e h e a r d t h e o w l ' s l o w call. H i s little h e a r t a l m o s t s t o p p e d w h e n a w e a s e l w e n t b y , w i t h a fat y o u n g r a b b i t i n its j a w s , l o o s e g u t s s p i l l i n g o v e r t h e grass w h i l e a b a t w i n g f l i c k e d across t h e e v e n i n g sky. He r u s h e d a w a y so noisily and e v e r since y o u a r e a l a s t i n g w i t n e s s t o t h e fairy a r r o w t h a t s t a b b e d his ear; s t u c k i n t h e m u d y o u r plastic e y e s s q u i n n y o p e n f r o m m o r n i n g t o n i g h t : y o u see t h e v i x e n a n d h e r b r o o d s t e a l i n g u p t o lap t h e f e r n y s w a m p h o l e near their den, the badger loping to wash his p a w s , s n u f f w a t e r w i t h his s n o u t . O n P a t t e r n days p e o p l e p a r a d e s e v e n c l o c k w i s e r o u n d s ; at every turn, t h r o w i n g in a stone.

T h o s e small s t o n e s rain d o w n o n y o u . T h e nuts from the hazel tree that g r o w s t o t h e r i g h t o f t h e w e l l also d r o p d o w n : y o u will g r o w w i s e r t h a n a n y b l e s s e d t r o u t i n this o o z e ! T h e r e d b r e a s t e d r o b i n o f t h e Sullivans will c o m e t o transform t h e surface t o h o n e y w i t h h e r q u i c k tail, churn the depths to blood, but you don't m o v e . B e m i r e d , y o u r n e c k strangled w i t h lobelias, 1 see y o u r p a l l o r s t a r i n g s t a r k l y b a c k a t m e from every s w i m m i n g hole, from every pool, Ophelia. translated by John Montague

S11

FILTE BHAL NA SIONNA D O N IASC Lim an bhradin Sa d o i r c h e a c h t Lann lom Sciath airgid, M i s e at filtiil, l o n t a c h Sleamhain, Ln d'fheamnach, G o caise c i i n G o heireaball eascon. Bia ar fad Is ea an t-iasc s e o Gan puinn cnmh Gan puinn putg Fiche punt teann D e m h e a t i n iata Drithe Ar a n e a d sa c h a o n a c h n a t a . Is s e i n i m s e o i t h n D o m o leannn T o n n ar thonn Leathrann ar leathrann, M o t h i n e g h e a l i n m a r b h a i r l n t h o s faoi M o r o g h a a t h o g h a s fin n iasacht.

AN BHEAN MHDHLIS D o p h i o c s suas m ag an gcntirt is tar is b e a g i n n c a i n t e do thairg d e o c h d o m nr eitos uaidh i s d o s h u o m a i r sos ag comhr.

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THE S H A N N O N ESTUARY WELCOMES THE FISH T h e salmon's leap In t h e d a r k n e s s Bare blade Silver s h i e l d ; And me welcoming, netD r a p e d and slippery Full o f s e a w e e d Of quiet eddies A n d eel-tails. All m e a t Is this fish Almost nothing of bone Less o f e n t r a i l T w e n t y packed pounds Of tensed muscle Straining T o w a r d s its n e s t a m o n g t h e n e a t m o s s e s . A n d I sing a lullaby T o m y darling Wave on wave V e r s e after v e r s e , My phosphorescence a sheet beneath him M y c h o s e n o n e , d r a w n f r o m afar. translated by Patrick Crotty

T H E UNFAITHFUL WIFE H e started c o m i n g o n t o m e at the spirit-grocer's warped and w o n k y counter a n d after a p r e l i m i n a r y s p o t o f b a n t e r offered t o b u y m e a glass o f p o r t e r ;
I wasn't one to d e m u r a n d m n o t i m e a t all w e w e r e t a l k i n g i h e b i n d leg <>ll a d o n k e y

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C h u a m a i r d h e o c h go deoch is joke go joke i s d o b h o s - s a sna t r i t h i aige a c h d m h i d a b h o s lta n d r t leis g o r a b h a s p s t a . D i r t s g o r a i b h carr a i g e is ar t h e a s t a i g h s i o b a b h a i l e u a i m is ni fada ar an m b t h a r n gur bhuail an teidhe . D o t h a r r a i n g s i s t e a c h a g lay-by c h u n g u r b h fhusaide m a p h g a d h . B h mla plaisteacha ar na sceacha is b r u s c a r ag g a b h i l t lastuas d i b h is n u a i r a l e a g s a l m h i d i r mo c h e a t h r n a n i d r t leis g o r a b h a s p s t a . B h s cleachtaithe deaslmhach a g oscailt c h n a i p o c h t a i r m o g h n a , a g lapadil g o b a r r m o s t o c a i is an c n e a s b o g os a g c i o n n s a n is n u a i r a b h r a i t h s nach raibh brste o r m n a c h air a t h i n i g g i m a r i s c t h g f a d h o r m a g a n n i m a d sin n d r t leis g o r a b h a s p s t a . Do bhain s do a threabhsar leis an i r a b h u a i l air i s d o s h l e a m h n a i g h sail i m s h u o c h n s a i s d o t h a r r a i n g s a n u a s air m is n u a i r a s h u i o s sios air go c r a m a c h is g u r m h a r c a i o s t h a r an s p r i o c b a a n c h l o c h b a shia i m p h a i d r i n a r leis go r a b h a s p s t a . B h mus r a cholainne m a r g h a i r d n i n d i a i d h bist is b h i a c h r a i c e a n n c h o m h slim c h o m h s o d i l sin l e m c h n e a s fin a g u s is m r an abairt sin
wi

A q u i c k s u c c e s s i o n o f s n o r t s a n d snifters a n d his r e l e n t l e s s r e p a r t e e h a d m e s p l i t t i n g m y sides w i t h l a u g h t e r . H o w e v e r m u c h the drink had loosened my tong I n e v e r let on I w a s m a r r i e d . H e w o u l d ask i f h e c o u l d l e a v e m e h o m e i n his f a m o u s m o t o r i n g - c a r , t h o u g h w e h a d n ' t g o n e v e r y far d o w n t h a t r o a d w h e n he was o v e r t a k e n by desire. He pulled in to a lay-by t h e b e t t e r t o h e a p m e w i t h kisses. T h e r e w e r e plastic bags b u r s t i n g w i t h r u b b i s h s t a c k e d against t h e b u s h e s . E v e n a s h e s l i p p e d his h a n d b e t w e e n m y t h i g h s I n e v e r let on I w a s m a r r i e d . He was so handy, t o o , w h e n i t c a m e t o u n b u t t o n i n g m y dress a n d w o r k i n g his w a y past m y s t o c k i n g - t o p s t o t h e soft s k i n j u s t a b o v e . W h e n it dawned on him that I wasn't w e a r i n g panties things w e r e definitely on the up a n d up and it hardly s e e m e d the appropriate m o m e n t t o let o n I w a s m a r r i e d . B y this t i m e h e h a d d r o p p e d his t r o u s e r s a n d , w i t h his p r o p e r little c h a r l i e , m a n o e u v r e d himself into the passenger-seat and d r e w me d o w n until, ever so gingerly, I might mount. A s I r o d e h i m past t h e w i n n i n g - p o s t n o t h i n g could have b e e n further from my m i n d t h a n t o let o n I w a s m a r r i e d . F o r his b o d y w a s e v e r y b i t a s s w e e t as a g a r d e n after a s h o w e r a n d Ins skin w a s a s s h e e r - d e l i c a t e a s m y o w n w h i c h is s a y i n g r a t h e r .1 lot

while

t l i c w a y lie l o o k e d m c s t i . l i g h t 111 t h e e y e

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is n u a i r a b h i o s ag t a b h a i r t plisirtha d h d'fhach s sa d shil o r m is fuaireas m o t h p a b h a i r is t u i s c e a n a nr bhraitheas tim psta. B h b o l a d h lofa s n a c l a t h a c h a is dramhal ag b u n na gcrann is b h an p o r t farach t a o b h l i o m b r e a c l e cac g a d h a r n a g c o m h a r s a n is n u a i r a t h r i g h ar an i r air t h i n i g aithis is c e a n n faoi air is nr d h o m h ba m h a i t h an mhaise ansan n d r t leis g o r a b h a s p s t a . D o b h u a i l e a s suas a n casn l e m scol a m h r i n i s l e m p h o r t feadale i s n o r ligeas o r m l e h i n n e a n e a c h t r a a b h laistiar d o m is m c h a s t a r o r m ars i n d i o s c n i d t e a c h t b h a i r n e ar ghr oinigh n ritigh n a d m h d r i a m h b h e i t h psta. A n n d a n f s a?

CEIST NA TEANGAN Cuirim mo dhchas ar snmh i mbidn teangan faoi m a r a leagf n a o n n i gcliabhn a b h e a d h fite fuaite d e d h u i l l e o g a feileastraim is b i t i m a n a g u s p i c b h e i t h c u i m i l t e lena t h i n

as he t o o k such great delight gave me a sense of p o w e r a n d t h e k i n d of insight I'd n o t had since I was married. T h e r e w a s this a l l - p e r v a s i v e s m e l l from t h e refuse-sacks lying u n d e r the h e d g e w h i l e t h e g r e e n , grassy s l o p e b e y o n d was littered w i t h dog-shit. N o w , as the g r o u n d s w e l l of passion began to subside, he himself had a h a n g - d o g , coy expression that m a d e me think it was just as well I n e v e r let on I w a s m a r r i e d . As I marched up my o w n garden-path I k i c k e d up a little d u s t . I burst into song and whistled a t u n e and v o w e d not to breathe a w o r d t o a soul a b o u t w h a t I ' d d o n e . A n d if, b y c h a n c e , I r u n i n t o h i m a g a i n at a disco or in s o m e s h e b e e n the only honourable course - the only decent thing w o u l d b e t o k e e p faith a n d n o t b e t r a y his t r u s t by letting on I was married. D o n ' t you think? translated by Paul Muldoon

T H E LANGUAGE ISSUE I place my h o p e on the w a t e r i n this little b o a t of the language, the way a b o d y might put an infant in a b a s k e t of i n t e r t w i n e d iris leaves, us underside proofed w i t h b i t u m e n a n d pit< I).

a n s a n a l e a g a d h sos i m e a s e na n g i o l c a c h is c o i g e a l na m b a n si le taobh na h a b h a n n , fachaint n'fheadaras c dtabharfaidh an sruth , f a c h a i n t , dla M h a o i s e , an bhfirfidh inon Fharoinn?

CAITLN N fhadf a t h a b h a i r t in a o n it leat, do t h a b h a r f a d h s n i r e is aithis d u i t . D r e a c h t o i s c g o r a i b h s a n - m h r ina vamp t h i a r ins na fichid, is g u r d h a m h a s si an Searlastan l e t o n n t r a c h a m i r n e a c h a ina g r u a i g d h u a l a c h t h r i l s e n a c h ; g u r p h a b h s a e gligeal t h i a r i n a o i d a g s d a g , g o b h f a c t h a s f o r n o c h t i g C o n n a c h t a , m a r ille n a h i l l e , i s a g taisteal b h i t h r e n a M u m h a n , m a r g h i l e n a g i l e ; go raibh s b e o b o c h t , gan locht, a p o b m a r a n eala, a g t e a c h t t a o b h leis a n d t o i n n is a h a d a n m a r s h n e a c h t a , n t h a n n a o n stad u i r t h i a c h a g m a o m h as na s e a n l a e t h a n t a , n u a i r a b h o d h si ag i o n s a na d t h a is an d r c h t ar a b r g a , maidin D o m h n a i g h is ag dul go hEochaill n ar an m b t h a r c o t h r o m idir C o r c a i g h agus D g h l a s . N a r u d a i i o n t a c h a a d i r t a n P a o r a c h fuithi is m a r m h a o r ar an l o i n g . Is d i r t d a o i n e eile go m b e a d h an i r n e ina tuilte trana, is go rabfa c n o i c . M u r a b i o n a n n is anois n u a i r ati si ina baintreach trith g o r a i b h s i a n t r t h san i n a m a i g h d e a n m h m h a r , c h a o i n , shi is d i r e a c h a d t h a i n cille aici c h u n f a n a c h t i g c n a a r a n d t a o b h thall d e n d t e o r a i n n ina m b t e a r d e s h i o r .

t h e n set t h e w h o l e t h i n g d o w n a m i d s t the sedge and bulrushes by the edge of a river only to have it borne hither and thither, not knowing where it might end up; in the lap, perhaps, of some Pharaoh's daughter. translated by Paid Muldoon

CATHLEEN Y o u c a n ' t t a k e h e r o u t for a n i g h t o n t h e t o w n w i t h o u t her either s h o w i n g you up or badly letting you d o w n just because she m a d e the T w e n t i e s roar w i t h her Black and T a n B o t t o m - O T e r p s i c h o r e and her hair in a p e r m a n e n t w a v e ; j u s t b e c a u s e s h e w a s a lily g r a v e i n n i n e t e e n s i x t e e n ; j u s t b e c a u s e she o n c e w a s s p o t t e d quite naked in C a n n o u g h t , of beauties most beautied, or t r a m p i n g the roads of M o o n s t a r e , brightest of the bright; just because she was p o o r , w i t h o u t b l e m i s h or blight, high-stepping it by the ocean with her famous swan's p r o w a n d a fresh fall o f s n o w o n h e r b r o a d e s t o f b r o a d b r o w s b e c a u s e o f all t h a t s h e n e v e r s t o p s b e n d i n g y o u r e a r a b o u t t h e g o o d o l d days o f y o r e w h e n she crept t h r o u g h t h e c o u n t r y i n h e r d e w y high heels o f a S u n d a y m o r n i n g , say, o n t h e r o a d t o Y o u g h a l o r that level stretch b e t w e e n C o r k and D o u g l a s . T h e r e was y o u r m a n P o w e r ' s r i d i c u l o u s suggestion w h e n h e was t h e ship's captain, n o t t o speak of the Erne running red with abundance and mountain-peaks laid l o w . S h e w h o i s n o w a w i d o w e d o l d w o m a n was a m o d e s t m a i d e n , m e e k a n d m i l d , b u t w i t h e n o u g h gumption
a t least t o k e e p t o h e i o w n

side ol i h e g h o s t l y d e m a r c a t i o n , t h e e t e r n a l buffet z o n e

B a d h i g h leat l e h i s t e a c h t li n r c h u a l a s riamh gur b i n n bal ina thost, is nach m b o n n i n a o n n a c h seal, g o g c r o n n a n n a n tslat l e h a o i s is fi d m b a d h i g h le gach spreasn an uair d g o m b a l e a n n n aige fin , g o b h f u i l n a l a e t h a n t a san t h a r t . C u i r f i d h m geall sos leat n r c h u a l a s leis m a r t s d e m h r b h u a aici a g u s d e d h e i s g a n a o n n a c h l o i s i n t a c h an r u d a ' r i n a o n n fin. T m i l a r a n g b h e a n aici, d a r li, a g u s r s b r e i n a h a d a n . Is an s a m p l a is fearr ar m ' a i t h n e de bhodhaire U Laoghaire.

\H()

F o r y o u ' d t h i n k t o listen t o h e r s h e ' d n e v e r heard t h a t d i s c r e t i o n i s t h e b e t t e r p a r t , t h a t o u r n a m e s are w r i t i n w a t e r , t h a t t h e g r e e n e s t stick will w i z e n : even if every slubberdegullion o n c e had a dream-vision i n w h i c h s h e a p p e a r e d a s his o w n t r u e l o v e r , t h o s e days are j u s t a s t r u l y o v e r . A n d I bet O l d G u m m y Granny has t a k e n n o n e o f this o n b o a r d b e c a u s e o f h e r u n c a n n y knack of hearing only w h a t confirms h e r o w n sense o f herself, h e r h o n e y - n u b i l e f o r m and the red nose, p r o u d rose or c a n k e r t u c k e d b e h i n d h e r ear, i n t h e h e a d - b a n d o f h e r b l i n k e r s . translated by Paid Muldoon

mi

M A T T H E W

S W E E N E Y

B o r n Donegal, 1952. Lives in L o n d o n , w h e r e he is currently w r i t e r - i n residence at the South Bank C e n t r e . Has published a well-received b o o k of children's verse, The Flying Spring Onion (1992). S w e e n e y is a miniaturist of estrangement. T h e account of the last hours of a victim of the King's Cross fire in ' T u b e Ride to Martha's' is typical of his brief, d i s c o m m o d i n g tales of c o n t e m p o r a r y urban life and death.

T O T H E BUILDING TRADE Here's to the building trade, t o t h e r e n o v a t i o n s a n d facelifts, t h e fake V i c t o r i a n facades; to the dust-muffled din that stops on Sundays; t o t h e m e n t h a t m a k e it, especially o n e f r o m D a l s t o n w h o , after a p i n t o r t w o a n d a p l o u g h m a n ' s , fell b u t t h e scaffolding s t a y e d u p till t h e flats w e r e c l e a n . H e r e ' s to the offduty cabbie i n t h e first-floor k i t c h e n w h o saw h i m splatter on the pavement; to the mate w i t h t h e t r o w e l , staring d o w n , his q u e s t i o n u n a n s w e r e d ; to the rent increase a n d t h e officer w h o set it. Here's to the young w i d o w w h o s e h o m e ' s i n this c i t y w h e r e m i g r a n t scaffolding, w h e r e v e r she m o v e s , will find h e r walls s o m e t i m e .

TUBE RIDE TO MARTHA 'S B e f o r e t h e sirens s t a r t e d , h e w a s late late for a d i n n e r at his w o m a n ' s , b u t h e ' d m a n a g e d t o find a g o o d R i o j a a n d a n e x c e l l e n t e x c u s e : his cat h a d b u r n e d h e r tail i n t h e t o a s t e r (this w a s t r u e ) a n d h e ' d b r o u g h t h e r to the vet and back in a cab. He t h o u g h t a b o u t a third cab to M a r t h a ' s b u t funds w e r e l o w , a n d the t u b e ride was four stops, a half h o u r w i t h t h e walks. H e h a d a t h r i l l e r i n his c a r r i e r - b a g , a Ross M c D o n a l d , l o n g o u t of print, w h i c h h e o p e n e d o n t h e escalator, w a n t i n g i t finished t o n i g h t . W h e n t h e s m o k e c a m e h e h a r d l y n o t i c e d , till t h e b l a c k g u a r d tried to hustle e v e r y o n e upstairs, a n d trains r u s h e d by, w i t h o u t s t o p p i n g , and people pushed and screamed. As the s m o k e got thicker and blacker w i t h f l a m e s g r o w i n g fast, h e r e a l i s e d it was over, almost before it had b e g u n .

M A U R I C E

R I O R D A N

B o r n Lisgoold, C o u n t y C o r k , 1953. Educated at St C o l m a n ' s College, F e r m o y , University College C o r k and M c M a s t e r University, O n t a r i o . T a u g h t briefly at U C C . Lives in L o n d o n as a freelance writer. ' T h e m a t u r e paradigm of a g o o d p o e m for me w o u l d be s o m e t h i n g like R o b e r t Frost's " B i r c h e s " - a spoken language w h i c h seems simpler than it actually is.' Riordan's unsentimental narratives of shadow-lives parallel to those we actually live share s o m e t h i n g of the astutely colloquial quality he admires in Frost. Again like those of the A m e r i c a n poet, his lyrics c o m m u n i c a t e a sense of a lurking grimness in the everyday.

MILK This n o t e b o o k in which he used to sketch h a s , o n its e x p e n s i v e - l o o k i n g b l a c k c o v e r , a s p r i n k l e o f w h i t i s h stains: o f t h e s o r t sure to detain the u n b o r n biographer. C o u l d they be the miniaturist's impression o f t h e n o r t h e r n s k y , his S t a r r y N i g h t ? O r m i g h t l a b - t e s t s p o i n t t o s o m e t h i n g else? T h a t t h e y a r e , i n fact, h u m a n m i l k - s t a i n s , t h e effect o f lactic a c i d o n c h e a p s k i n , a n d d a t e f r o m five y e a r s e a r l i e r a t i m e w h e n his w i f e ' s h y p e r a c t i v e g l a n d s u s e d t o l o b m i l k r i g h t across t h e r o o m to the wing-chair in which he dozed, t h e s k e t c h b o o k (it s e e m s ) c l o s e d i n his h a n d s . T h o u g h h e felt its l i g h t lash o n his skin m a n y a n i g h t , h e n e v e r t o o k t o that m i l k
Ui

a n d w i s h e d o n l y for a w i d e r r o o m . A failure o f i m a g i n a t i o n , y o u m i g h t c l a i m , though it could be he needed m o r e of h u m a n kindness from that source then. Y o u c o u l d e v e n say t h a t t h e m i l k s t o p p e d , b u t the acid d i d n ' t . T h a t he replied in kind. A n d thus it began: the pointless unstoppable g a m e across a r o o m , i n w h i c h a c h i l d g r e w less small, a n d b e c a m e t h e m e s m e r i z e d u m p i r e looking n o w one way, n o w the other.

TIME O U T Such is modern life Stephen D o b y n s T h e t w o y o u n g o n e s fed, Asleep. T i m e n o w t o s t r e t c h o n t h e sofa. T i m e for a c i g a r e t t e . W h e n h e realizes h e ' s o u t . C l e a n o u t o f s m o k e s . H e grabs a fistful o f c o i n s , h e s i t a t e s t o listen b e f o r e P u l l i n g t h e d o o r softly t o . T h e n sprints for t h e c o r n e r s h o p . W h e n h e trips o n a s h o e l a c e , h e a d first i n t o t h e p a t h o f a U - t u r n i n g cab. T h e s c r e e c h o f b r a k e s i s c o t e r m i n o u s w i t h his s c r e a m . T h e Somalian shopkeeper, w h o s u m m o n s the ambulance, k n o w s t h e face, B u t t h e n a m e o r address? N o - j u s t s o m e o n e h e r e m e m b e r s P o p p i n g i n , a l w a y s w i t h k i d s (this h e d o e s n ' t say). C a s u a l t y i s a t full s t r e t c h a n d t h e w h i t e t h i r t y i s h m a l e , U n s h a v e n , with b r o k e n runners, is g o i n g n o w h e r e . Is cleanly dead.

bathed,

zippered, read to and sung to.

A r o u n d m i d n i g h t a n o r d e r l y r u m m a g e s his p o c k e t s : ,/J2.50 i n change, A l a t c h k e y , t w o c h e s t n u t s , o n e m i t t e n , scraps o f p a p e r , S o m e w r i t t e n o n , b u t n o wallet, cards, licence, o r address b o o k . A r o u n d 2 a.m. he's p u t on ice, w i t h a n u m b e r e d tag. A r o u n d 3 a . m . a c h i l d w a k e s , cries, t h e n w a i l s for a t t e n t i o n . B u t after t e n m i n u t e s , u n u s u a l l y , g o e s b a c k t o s l e e p . U n u s u a l l y his t w i n sleeps o n u n d i s t u r b e d till six o ' c l o c k , W h e n t h e y b o t h w a k e t o g e t h e r , k i c k i n g , c a l l i n g o u t dada, dada H a p p i l y : w e l l slept, still d r y , c r o o n i n g a n d p r e t e n d - r e a d i n g i n t h e half-light. T h e n o n e slides t o t h e f l o o r , t o d d l e s t o t h e m a s t e r b e d r o o m A n d , s e e i n g t h e e m p t y ( u n m a d e ) b e d , t o d d l e s t o w a r d s t h e stairs, N o w f o l l o w e d b y t h e o t h e r , less stable, w h o s t u m b l e s h a l f w a y down A n d b o t h roll t h e last five s t e p s t o t h e b o t t o m , s c r e a m i n g . T o b e d i s t r a c t e d b y t h e p o s t p l o p p i n g o n t o t h e m a t : all j u n k , T h e r e f o r e b u l k y , c o l o u r f u l , glossy, illicit. T i m e slips. N i n e o'clock: h u n g r y , soiled, sensing oddness and absence, Edgy together and w h i m p e r i n g n o w , w h e n they discover the TV Still o n , its 1 7 - c h a n n e l c o n s o l e alive t o t h e i r t o u c h . T h e Italian P a r l i a m e n t , s u m o w r e s t l i n g , t h e A u s t r i a n G r a n d P r i x , O p e r a , t h e P a r c e l F o r c e ad, s e e t h e m t h r o u g h t o h a l f past n i n e W h e n distress t a k e s h o l d a n d t h e solid s t e r e o p h o n i c s c r e a m i n g begins, R e l e n t l e s s a n d shrill e n o u g h t o p e n e t r a t e t h e a t t e n t i o n Of the retired French pharmacist next door W h o at, say t e n o ' c l o c k , p o k e s a b r o o m s t i c k t h r o u g h h e r r e a r window T o r a t t l e t h e i r s : m a g i c a l s i l e n c i n g effect, l a s t i n g j u s t s o l o n g A s i t t a k e s f o r t h e e l d e r l y w o m a n t o d r a w u p h e r s h o p p i n g list, To retrieve t w o tenners from the ice-compartment, dead-lock h e r front doors, Shake her h e a d at the s u n n i n g milk, and m a k e it to the bus.

Let us j u m p then to 10 p.m., to the nightmare d e n o u e m e n t . . . N o , let u s d u c k r i g h t n o w o u t o f this s t o r y , for s u c h i t is: A n i d l e , d a y - b e d , H i t c h c o c k i a n fantasy ( t h o u g h p r o m p t e d b y a news item, A c l o c k w o r k s c e n a r i o : i t w a s five days b e f o r e t h a t t h r e e - y e a r - o l d W a s d i s c o v e r e d b e s i d e t h e c o r p s e o f his Irish d a d i n N o r t h o l t ) . L e t u s g e t this d a d i n a n d o u t o f t h e s h o p , safely across t h e s t r e e t , Safely i n d o o r s a g a i n , less a c o u p l e o f q u i d , p l u s t h e listings m a g s A n d t e n Silk C u t , b a c k o n b o a r d t h e sofa: r e p r i e v e d , r e l e a s e d , relaxed, T h i n k i n g it's t i m e for n e w s n e a k e r s , for a b e a r d t r i m , for a n overall R e t h i n k i n the hair d e p a r t m e n t . T i m e m a y b e t o m o v e o n from t h e fags.

A W O R D FROM T H E LOKI T h e L o k i t o n g u e d o e s n o t l e n d itself t o d e s c r i p t i o n a l o n g classical l i n e s . C o n s i d e r t h e v o w e l s : t h e r e are just four, including o n e p r o d u c e d by inspiration (i.e. i n d r a w n b r e a t h ) , w h i c h t h e n r e q u i r e s a n a c r o b a t i c feat o f p r o j e c t i o n t o e n g a g e w i t h its t r o u p e o f c o n s o n a n t s . T h e skilled l i n g u i s t c a n m a n a g e , a t b e s t , a sort of t a t t o o ; w h e r e a s t h e L o k i form s o u n d s of balletic exactness. C o n s i d e r f u r t h e r : t h a t t h e t r i b e has e v o l v e d this s t r e n u o u s m e a n s o f a r t i c u l a t i o n for o n e w o r d , a d e f e c t i v e v e r b used in o n e m o o d only, the optative. N o semantic equivalent can b e found in English, n o r within I n d o - E u r o p e a n . L o o s e l y , t h e w o r d m i g h t be g l o s s e d as to joke, p r o v i d e d w e c i t e several o t h e r usages, su< h as to rccovct from snakebite; to fish with the ancestors',
187

to die at home in the village, survived by all of one's sons and grandsons. It is p r o h i b i t e d in daily s p e e c h , and the Loki, a moderate people w h o abjure physical p u n i s h m e n t s , a r e s e v e r e i n e n f o r c i n g this t a b o o , s i n c e all o f f e n d e r s , o f w h a t e v e r a g e o r status, are h a n d e d o v e r t o mouri - s e n t , in effect, to a g r u e s o m e d e a t h : for t h e v i c t i m is p u t on b o a r d a raft, given a g o u r d of d r i n k i n g w a t e r , a knife, and one of those raucous owl-faced monkeys as companion, then towed t o m i d s t r e a m a n d set l o o s e o n t h e c u r r e n t . Y e t the t a b o o is relaxed at so-called j o k e parties': i m p r o m p t u celebrations that can be p r o v o k e d by multiple births or by an o u t - o f - s e a s o n catch of bluefish. T h e y are o c c a s i o n s for s t o r y - t e l l i n g a n d p o e t r y , a n d s e r v e a useful e n d i n a l l o w i n g t h e y o u n g t o l e a r n this v e r b a n d t o p e r f e c t its e x a c t d e l i v e r y . For the w o r d is held to have c o m e d o w n f r o m t h e a n c e s t r a l g o d s , t o b e t h e i r o n e gift. A n d its o c c u l t use i s specific: t o w a r d off the L o o r d h u , a cannibalistic h o r d e , b e l i e v e d t o r o a m t h e i n t e r i o r forest, w h o are r e p u t e d t o l i k e t h e i r m e a t fresh a n d r a w , t o k e e p c h i l d r e n i n l i e u o f p i g s , a n d to treat eye a n d t o n g u e as delicacies. T h e proximity of danger is heralded by a d e s p o n d e n c y that seems to strike w i t h o u t visible c a u s e b u t w h i c h effects a swift c h a n g e a m o n g a p e o p l e b y n a t u r e brave a n d practical, b r i n g i n g to a stop i n a m a t t e r o f h o u r s all w o r k , p l a y , talk. A t s u c h crises, t h e villagers a d v a n c e to t h e r i v e r b a n k a n d , as n i g h t tails.

they climb into t h e trees, there to recite this v e r b t h r o u g h o u t t h e h o u r s o f d a r k n e s s . B u t since, i n t h e m e m o r y o f t h e village, the L o o r d h u have never yet attacked, o n e has r e a s o n t o d o u b t t h e e x i s t e n c e of an i m m i n e n t threat to the Loki w h o nonetheless continue, in suspense, their chant. A t o n c e wistful a n d e e r i e , i t p r o d u c e s this o b s e r v a b l e r e s u l t : t h a t it q u e l l s the c o m m o t i o n of the g u e n o n monkeys a n d lulls, w i t h i n its r a n g e , t h e g r e a t forest.

w>

T H O M A S

M C C A R T H Y

Born C a p p o q u i n , C o u n t y Waterford, 1954. Educated at St A n n e ' s Secondary School, C a p p o q u i n , and University College C o r k . M e m b e r of International W r i t i n g Program at the University of Iowa, 1 9 7 7 - 8 . W o r k s in City Library, C o r k . M c C a r t h y has published t w o novels of political life in M u n s t e r , Without Power (1991) and Asya and Christine (1992). M c C a r t h y ' s teenage experience as a Fianna Fail activist throws a long shadow over his w o r k in verse and prose alike. His p o e m s register the t e d i u m and self-delusion of lower-middle-class rural life in the Republic while sympathetically observing its impulses towards grace and generosity. M c C a r t h y ' s lyrics are at their stongest w h e n they resist a prettifying aestheticism to look directly at unprepossessing realities: ' P e r s e p h o n e , 1978' confronts the trauma of a road disaster the poet survived, while ' T h e Standing Trains' finds an e m b l e m of declining political idealism in the railway s h u t d o w n s of the 1960s. ' M r N a b o k o v ' s M e m o r y ' , a c u n n i n g tessellation of details from the novelist's Speak, Memory, represents the m o r e literary side of M c C a r t h y ' s sensibility.

STATE FUNERAL Parnell will never come again, he said. He's there, all that was mortal of him. Peace to his ashes. James J o y c e , Ulysses T h a t A u g u s t a f t e r n o o n t h e family G a t h e r e d . T h e r e w a s a n a t i v e dja vu O f F u n e r a l w h e n w e s e t t l e d against t h e c o u c h O n o u r s u n b u r n t k n e e s . W e gripped m u g s o f tea Tightly and soaked the TV spectacle; T h e boxed ritual in our living-room. M y father recited prayers o f m e m o r y , O f m o n s t e r m e e t i n g s , blazing tar-barrels Planted outside Free-State homes, the BroyFlarriers p u s h i n g t h r o u g h a c r o w d , B l u c s h i r t s ;

A n d , after t h e w a r , d e V a l e r a ' s w o r d s M a k i n g Churchill's imperial palette blur. W h a t I r e m e m b e r is o n e decade of darkness, A mind-stifling b o r e d o m ; long summers For blackberry picking and churning cream, W i n t e r s for s a v i n g t i m b e r o r s e t t i n g lines A n d snares: n o n e o f t h e j o y s o f h e r e a n d n o w W i t h its i n s t a n t j a m , i n s t a n t h e a t a n d c r e a m :

I t w a s a l a n d s c a p e for o l d m e n . T o d a y T h e y l o w e r e d t h e tallest o n e , t i d i e d h i m A w a y w h i l e his p e o p l e w a t c h e d q u i e t l y . I n t h e e n d h e h a d r e t r e a t e d t o t h e first d r e a m , C a n i n g t r u t h . I t h i n k o f his a u s t e r e g r a n d e u r ; T a u t sadness, like old h e r o e s he had i m a g i n e d .

MR N A B O K O V ' S MEMORY F o r m y first p o e m t h e r e are specific i m a g e s h e r d e d like s c h o o l c h i l d r e n i n t o a neat r o w . T h e r e is an ear and h u m a n finger h a n g i n g from the linden tree in the Park n o r t h of Maria Square and, b e t w e e n there and Morskaya Street, o t h e r images of defeat. S u c h as a b l a c k a r t i c l e in a Fascist n e w s p a p e r b l o w i n g along the footpath, or an old soldier t h r o w i n g insults a t l o v e r s o u t w a l k i n g . E v e n t h e schveitsar i n o u r h a l l w a y s h a r p e n s p e n c i l s for m y f a t h e r ' s m e e t i n g as if sharpening the guillotine of the future. T h e r e i s o n l y T a m a r a , w h o arrives w i t h t h e p o e m as s o m e t h i n g g o o d ; her w a y w a r d hair tied back w i t h a b o w o f b l a c k silk. H e r n e c k , in the l o n g light of s u m m e r , is c o v e r e d w i t h soft d o w n like t h e b l o o m o n a l m o n d s . W h e n w i n t e r c o m e s I'll miss s c h o o l t o listen to her m i n o r , uvular p o e m s , her jokes, hci s n o r t i n g l a u g h t e t i n S i P e t e r s b u r g m u s e u m s

I h a v e all this; this l u x u r y o f l o v e ; u n t i l s h e says: 'a flaw has a p p e a r e d in u s , it's t h e strain of w i n t e r s in St P e t e r s b u r g ' a n d like a h e r o i n e from a s e c o n d - r a t e matinee i n N e v s k i S t r e e t s h e steps i n t o t h e w o m b of the M e t r o to b e c o m e a part of me forever. So m a n y things m u s t h a p p e n at o n c e in this, this single chrysalis o f m e m o r y , this p o e m . W h i l e m y s o n w e e p s b y m y side a t a b o r d e r c h e c k p o i n t , a caterpillar ascends t h e stalk of a c a m p a n u l a , a b u t t e r f l y c o m e s to rest o n t h e leaf o f a t r e e w i t h a n u n f o r g e t t a b l e n a m e ; a n o l d m a n sighs i n a n o r c h a r d in the Crimea, an even older housekeeper loses h e r m i n d a n d t h e k e y s t o o u r k i t c h e n . A y o u n g s e r v a n t is s h a r p e n i n g t h e b l a d e o f t h e f u t u r e , w h i l e m y f a t h e r leaps i n t o t h e p a t h o f a n assassin's b u l l e t at a b r i e f A u g u s t l e c t u r e in B e r l i n . All t h e s e t h i n g s m u s t h a p p e n a t o n c e b e f o r e t h e r a i n s t o r m clears, l e a v i n g o n e d r o p o f w a t e r p i n n e d d o w n b y its o w n w e i g h t . W h e n it falls f r o m t h e l i n d e n leaf I shall run to my m o t h e r , forever waiting forever w a i t i n g , w i t h m a t e r n a l R u s s i a n tears, t o listen t o h e r s o n ' s o n e a n d o n l y p o e m .

PERSEPHONE, 1978 T h e late M a r c h m i s t i s a n a n g r y C e r b e r u s , sniffing d e b r i s , sniffing t h e helpless w i t h its m o i s t n o s e s . T h e d e a d are b u n c h e d t o g e t h e r : a w o m a n decapitated by a flying w h e e l - r i m , her daughter screaming 'Help me! Help Mama!' I crawl through a shattered windscreen t o taste diesel f u m e s , p u n g e n t s c a t t e r e d grain f r o m t h e o v e r t u r n e d distillery t r u c k . Arc-lights go on e v e r y w h e r e although

it's still d a y l i g h t . M y e y e s h u r t . M y a r m s . My neck is w e t , a b l o o d y mist thickening, a soft M a r c h d a y . T h e r e ' s b l o o d a n d rain o n t h e t a r m a c . B o d i e s lie s t o n e - q u i e t after t h e c a t a p u l t o f s p e e d . E v e n the injured snore deeply. S o m e will n e v e r c o m e back, n e v e r g r o w w a r m again. M y m i n d fills w i t h t h e c o n s t a n t m u t i l a t e d d e a d , the Ulster dead, the perennial traffic-accident o f I r e l a n d . H e r e a r e funerals b e i n g m a d e . A priest walks a m o n g the w o u n d e d , Christian stretcher-bearer, helper a n d s c a v e n g e r . M y m i n d fills w i t h h a t r e d . I race before h i m to t h e c o m a t o s e , s h o u t i n g ' Y o u ' l l b e fine! J u s t k e e p w a r m ! ' and cover a m o t h e r w i t h my duffle-coat. It is my will against his, I w a n t to s h r o u d the w o m a n ' s soul w i t h love, h e s i t a n t , i m p e r f e c t , b u t this side o f P a r a d i s e . E v e r y w h e r e is the sound of wailing pain. A s u r g e o n h u r r i e s past, s w e a t i n g , his t a t t e r e d g o w n i s p u r p l e w i t h b l o o d , his face a d a r k b l u e narcissus. I h a v e o n l y w o r d s t o offer, n o t h i n g like p e t h i d i n e o r t h e oils o f E x t r e m e U n c t i o n . Beside me t h e w o m a n dies, p e p p e r e d w i t h barley p l u c k e d f r o m t h e i n s a n e w o r l d like P e r s e p h o n e .

T H E STANDING TRAINS . . . and I thought how wonderful to miss one's connections; soon I shall miss them all the time Louis M a c N e i c e : The Strings arc False F r o m t h e w i n d o w s of a s t a n d i n g train you can judge the artwork of o u r p o o r R e p u b l i c . T h e prominent ruins that make I imeri< k |un< tion
s e e m like I h e s d e n in 1945

and the b e a t e n - u p coaches at M a l l o w Station, the rusted side-tracks at Charleville, have t a k e n years o f i n d e p e n d e n t t h o u g h t . It t a k e s d e c a d e s to d e s t r o y a s y s t e m of stations. On t h e o t h e r h a n d , a few well-placed hand-signals can destroy a w h o l e m o d e o f life, a n e t w o r k o f h a p p i n e s s . This is our o w n Republic! O M e m o r y , O Patria, t h e s h a m e of silenced j u n c t i o n s . T i m e k n e w w e ' d r i p t h e rails a p a r t , w e ' d sell emigrant tickets e v e n w h i l e stripping t h e t i c k e t - o f f i c e b a r e . T h e s t a n d i n g trains o f t h e f u t u r e w e r e b a c k e d against a w a l l . T w o hens peck seed from the bright platform, hens roost in the signal-box. B i l i n g u a l signs t h a t c a u s e d a d e b a t e i n t h e S e n a t e h a v e b e e n u n b o l t e d a n d u s e d a s gates: it's late s u m m e r n o w i n this d e a d s t a t i o n . W h e n I w a s t w e l v e t h e y u n b o l t e d t h e rails. N o w there's o n l y t h e ghost o f m y father, s t a n d i n g b y t h e p a r c e l - s h e d w i t h his g h o s t l y suitcase. W h e n h e sees m e w a l k i n g t o w a r d s h i m he b e c o m e s u p s e t . Don't stop here! he cries. Keep going, keep going! Tliis place is dead.

I A N

D U H I G

Born into Irish family in H a m m e r s m i t h , L o n d o n , 1954. A w o r k e r on homelessness projects in L o n d o n , Belfast and Yorkshire, he n o w lives in Leeds. Seeking out the brutalities b e h i n d the e u p h e m i s m s of history, D u h i g ' s p o e m s exhibit a B r o w n i n g e s q u e delight in distortion. An author's n o t e on Tr H e n Iaith A'i C h a n e u o n ' reads: ' T h e title is Welsh and means " T o the O l d T o n g u e and Its Songs". T h e Irish translates roughly as: Speak not to me of the foreign prelate/ N o r of his creed with neither truth nor faith/ For the foundation stone of his t e m p l e / Is the bollocks of King H e n r y
VIII.'

I'R HEN IAITH A'I C H A N E U O N If the tongue only speak all that the mind knows There wouldn 't be any neighbours The Red Book of Hergest W h e n I g o d o w n t o W a l e s for t h e l o n g b a n k h o l i d a y t o visit m y w i f e ' s g r a n d f a t h e r w h o i s t e e t o t a l , w h o is a non-smoker, w h o does not approve of anyone w h o is n o t teetotal and a n o n - s m o k e r , w h e n I g o d o w n t o W a l e s for t h e l o n g , l o n g b a n k h o l i d a y w i t h m y s e c o n d w i f e t o visit h e r g r a n d f a t h e r w h o d e s e r t e d M e t h o d i s m for T h e R e d Flag, w h o w o n ' t h e a r a w o r d against Stalin, w h o despite m y oft-professed socialism s e c r e t l y b e l i e v e s I a m still w i t h t h e P o p e ' s l e g i o n s , receiving c o d e d telegrams from the Vatican specifying the dates, times a n d positions I s h o u l d a d o p t for p o l i t i c a l a c t i v i t y a n d s e x u a l a c t i v i t y , w h o i n his n i n e t i e t h y e a r t o o k against b o x i n g , w h i c h was t h e o n l y t h i n g I c o u l d e v e r talk t o h i m a b o u t , w h e n I visit m y s e c o n d w i f e ' s s u r v i v i n g g r a n d f a t h e r , a n d w h e n h e listens t o t h e football results i n W e l s h I w i l l sometimes s l i p out t<> the p u b .

I will s o m e t i m e s slip o u t t o t h e p u b and drink pint u p o n pint of that bilious w h e y t h e y serve t h e r e , w h e r e the m u z a k will invariably b e Hie Best of the Rhosllanerchrugog Male Voice Choir a n d I will g e t t r a p p e d b y s o m e b r a i n d o n o r f r o m u p t h e v a l l e y w h o will really talk a b o u t ' t h e l a n g u a g e s o s t r o n g a n d s o b e a u t i f t h a t has g r o w n o u t o f t h e ageless m o u n t a i n s , t h a t s p e e c h o f w o n d r o u s b e a u t y t h a t o u r fathers w r o u g h t ' , w h o will c h a n t t o m e i n W e l s h his e p i l e p t i c v e r s e s a b o u t Gruffudd ap Llywellyn and Daffydd ap Llywellyn, a n d w h o w i l l g i v e m e t w o solid h o u r s o f slaver b e c a u s e I d o n ' t s p e a k Irish a n d w h o will t h e n b r i n g u p r e l i g i o n , t h e n I will tell h i m I k n o w o n e Irish p r a y e r a b o u t a W e l s h k i n g o n t h a t v e r y s u b j e c t , a n d I w i l l r e c i t e for h i m a s f o l l o w s : ' N thrcht ar an mhinistir Ghallda N ar a c h r e i d e i m h gan b h e a n n gan bhri, M a r ni'l m a r b h u a n - c h l o c h d t h e a m p u i l l A c h magairle Annraoi Ri.' 'Beautiful,' H e w i l l say, a s t h e y all d o , ' I t s o u n d s q u i t e b e a u t i f u l . '

REFORMA AGRARIA In 1 9 3 6 , F a l a n g e o r C a r l i s t priests showed wounded men, republicans, rojoseperatistas, an extreme unction, a cristazio l i m p i o , a b l o w w i t h t h e crucifix b e t w e e n the eyes, a blessed paseo, t h e l i g h t oil o f t h e g u n like w a t c h m a k e r ' s oil, or s u n f l o w e r oil, ran f r o m t h e L u g e r s , ran f r o m B e r e t t a s d o w n i n t o t h e eyes of w o u n d e d land-leaguers.

w h o closed t h e m k n o w i n g even then they'd w o n t w o square metres, r o o m for t h e r e d r o s e t r e e .

P A U L A

M E E H A N

Born Dublin, 1955. Educated at Trinity College Dublin and Eastern Washington University. Lives in Dublin. A popular reader of her w o r k , M e e h a n runs writing workshops in prisons, schools and c o m m u n i t y groups. M e e h a n ' s p o e m s are remarkable for their unaffected confidence and directness of address and tor their sudden, intense bursts of lyricism. M a n y of t h e m celebrate the resilience of w o m e n in adversity.

T H E PATTERN L i t t l e has c o m e d o w n t o m e o f h e r s , a sewing machine, a wedding band, a clutch of p h o t o s , the sting of h e r h a n d across m y face i n o n e o f o u r w a r s w h e n w e h a d g r o w n b i t t e r a n d apart. S o m e say t h a t ' s t h e fate o f t h e e l d e s t d a u g h t e r . I w i s h n o w s h e ' d lasted till after I ' d g r o w n u p . W e m i g h t h a v e m a d e a n e w start as w o m e n w i t h o u t tags like mother, wife, sister, daughter, t a k e n o u r c h a n c e s f r o m t h e r e . A t f o r t y - t w o s h e h e a d e d for g o d k n o w s w h e r e . I ' v e n e v e r g o n e b a c k t o visit h e r g r a v e .

First s h e ' d s c r u b t h e f l o o r w i t h S u n l i g h t s o a p , an armreach at a t i m e . W h e n her knees g r e w sore s h e ' d b r e a k for a c u p o f t e a , t h e n start a g a i n a t t h e d o o r w i t h l a v e n d e r polish. T h e smell w o u l d p e r c o l a t e b a c k t h r o u g h t h e flat t o us, her brood banished to the b e d r o o m .

A n d as she buffed t h e w a x to a high shine d i d she c a t c h h e r o w n face c o m i n g clear? D i d s h e n e t a g l i m m e r o f h e r t r u e self? D i d h e r m i r r o r tell w h a t m i n e tells m e ? I have her shrug and go on k n o w i n g h i s t o r y has b r o u g h t h e r t o h e r k n e e s . S h e ' d call u s i n a n d let u s skate a r o u n d in o u r socks. W e ' d g r o w s o l e m n as planets in an intricate orbit a b o u t her.

She's b e n d i n g over crimson cloth, t h e y o u n g e r k i d s are l o n g i n b e d . L a t e s u m m e r , c o l d e n o u g h for a fire, she w o r k s by fading light t o r e m a k e a n o l d dress for m e . It's first d a y b a c k a t s c h o o l t o m o r r o w .

*
'Pure lambswool. Plenty of w e a r in it yet. Y o u k n o w I w o r e this w h e n I w e n t o u t w i t h y o u r D a . I was supposed to be d o w n in a friend's h o u s e , y o u r Granda caught us at the corner. He dragged me in by the hair - it was l o n g as yours t h e n in front of the w h o l e street. H e called y o u r D a e v e r y n a m e u n d e r t h e s u n , c o r n e r b o y , l o u t ; I n e e d n ' t tell y o u w h a t h e called m e . H e s h o v e d m y w h o l e h e a d u n d e r the kitchen tap, t o o k a scrubbing brush and carbolic soap and in ice-cold w a t e r he scrubbed e v e r y s p i c k o f l i p s t i c k a n d m a s c a r a off m y face. Christ but he was a right tyrant, y o u r Granda. It'll b e o v e r m y d e a d b o d y a n y o n e h a r m s a h a i r o f y o u r h

She
inusi

h a v e stayed u p lull t h e night I f o u n d ii a i r i n g at t h e fire,

to finish tin' dress

t h r e e n e w c o p y b o o k s on t h e table a n d a b r i g h t b r o n z e n i b , S t C h r i s t o p h e r s t r u n g o n a silver w i r e , as if I w e r e e m b a r k i n g on a p e r i l o u s j o u r n e y t o u n c h a r t e d r e a l m s . I w o r e t h a t dress w i t h little g r a c e . T o m e i t spelt p o v e r t y , t h e s t i g m a o f t h e s e c o n d h a n d . I g r e w e n o u g h t o pass it on by Christmas to the n e x t in line. I was sizing u p t h e w o r l d b e y o n d o u r flat p a t c h b y p a t c h daily after s c h o o l , a n d f i t t i n g e a c h s u r p r i s i n g c i t y s t r e e t t o city s q u a r e t o d i a m o n d . I ' d w a t c h t h e Liffey for h o u r s p u l s i n g t o t h e sea a n d t h e c o m i n g a n d g o i n g o f ships, certain that o n e day it w o u l d carry me to Zanzibar, Bombay, the Land of the Ethiops.

There's a p h o t o of her taken in the P h o e n i x Park a l o n e o n a b e n c h s u r r o u n d e d b y roses as if she had b e e n b o r n to formal gardens. S h e stares o u t a s i f u n a w a r e that any h u m a n h a n d held the camera, w r a p p e d entirely in her o w n shadow, the world b e y o n d her a l r e a d y a d r e a m , a l r e a d y lost. S h e ' s e i g h t m o n t h s p r e g n a n t . H e r last c h i l d .

H e r steel n e e d l e s s p a r k e d a n d c l a c k e d , t h e o n l y o t h e r s o u n d a s e t t l i n g coal or her sporadic m u t t e r at a h a r d p a r t in t h e p a t t e r n . She favoured sensible shades: Moss Green, Mustard, Beige. I d r e a m t a r o b e of a c o l o u r so p u r e it b e c a m e a w o r d .

4(H)

S o m e t i m e s I'd have to k n e e l a n h o u r b e f o r e h e r b y t h e fire, a skein a r o u n d my outstretched hands, w h i l e s h e r o l l e d w o o l i n t o balls. If I s w a m l i k e a k i t e t o o h i g h amongst the shadows on the ceiling or f l e w l i k e a fish in t h e p o o l s of pulsing light, s h e ' d reel me firmly h o m e , she'd land me at h e r knees. T o n g u e s of flame in h e r dark eyes, s h e ' d s a y , ' O n e o f t h e s e days I m u s t teach y o u to follow a pattern.'

CHILD BURIAL Y o u r coffin l o o k e d u n r e a l , f a n c y as a w e d d i n g c a k e . I chose y o u r grave clothes w i t h care, y o u r favourite stripey shirt, y o u r blue c o t t o n trousers. T h e y smelt of w o o d s m o k e , of O c t o b e r , y o u r o w n smell there t o o . I chose a gansy of h a n d s p u n w o o l , w a r m a n d fleecy for y o u . I t i s so cold d o w n in the dark. N o light can reach y o u a n d teach y o u the paths of wild birds, the names of the flowers, t h e fishes, t h e c r e a t u r e s . Ignorant y o u must remain
<il t h e s u n .nid its wi 'i 1..

mi

m y l a m b , m y calf, m y e a g l e t , m y c u b , m y kid, m y nestling, my suckling, my colt. I w o u l d spin t i m e back, take y o u again w i t h i n m y w o m b , y o u r a m n i o t i c lair, a n d further spin y o u b a c k through nine waxing months t o t h e split s e e d i n g m o m e n t you chose to be m a d e flesh, word within me. I ' d c a n c e l t h e l o v e feast the hot night of your making. I w o u l d travel alone to a quiet mossy place, y o u w o u l d spill f r o m m e i n t o t h e e a r t h drop by bright red drop.

LABURNUM Y o u walk into an ordinary r o o m o n a n o r d i n a r y e v e n i n g , say mid-May, w h e n the laburnum h a n g s o v e r t h e railings o f t h e S q u a r e and the city is lulled by eight o'clock, t h e traffic s p a r s e , t h e air fresher. Y o u e x p e c t t o find s o m e o n e w a i t i n g , t h o u g h n o w y o u live alone. Y o u ' v e answered none

o f y o u r calls. T h e l e t t e r s pile up in the corner. T h e idea persists t h a t s o m e o n e w a i t s w h i l e y o u t u r n t h e brass h a n d l e a n d k n o c k on the light. Gradually the dark seeps i n t o the r o o m , y o u lock o u t t h e n i g h t , scan a f e w b o o k s . It's days s i n c e y o u a t e . T h e plants are d y i n g - e v e n t h e cactus, shrivelled like an old s c r o t u m , has g i v e n u p t h e g h o s t . T h e r e ' s a heel of w i n e in a m a g n u m y o u b o u g h t , w h e n ? T h e day before? T h e day before that? It's t h e o n l y w a y out. T h e cold sweats begin. Y o u k n o c k back a few. Y o u ' v e n o c l e a n c l o t h e s left. H e i s g o n e . Say it. Say i t t o yourself, t o t h e r o o m . Say i t l o u d e n o u g h t o b e l i e v e it. Y o u will live b r e a t h by breath. T h e beat of y o u r o w n heart will s c o u r g e y o u . Y o u ' l l w a i t i n v a i n , for h e ' s g o n e f r o m y o u . A n d every n i g h t is a l o n g slide t o t h e d a w n y o u w a k e t o , terrified i n y o u r o r d i n a r y r o o m o n a n o r d i n a r y m o r n i n g , say m i d - M a y , say t h e t i m e o f l a b u r n u m .

mi

S E A N

D U N N E

B o r n Waterford, 1956. Educated at M o u n t Sion Christian Brothers' School, Waterford, and University College C o r k . W o r k e d as a journali on the Cork Examiner. Edited Poets of Minister (1985) and The Cork Anthology (1993). In My Father's House, a m e m o i r of D u n n e ' s childhood, appeared in 1991, and The Road to Silence, a spiritual autobiography, in 1994. Sen D u n n e died suddenly in 1995. D o m e s t i c h a r m o n y achieved or disrupted serves as an icon for a range of w i d e r concerns in D u n n e ' s p o e m s , m a n y of w h i c h share the m u t e d elegiac t o n e o f ' S y d n e y Place', w i t h its portrait of a disintegrating marriage.

from SYDNEY PLACE

BEANS

W h a t must they have g r o w n to n o w , Secrets s p r o u t i n g in the dark? My arm resting on a windowsill, I flicked m u n g b e a n s a t ivy As if next m o r n i n g I'd w a k e To a beanstalk ripe w i t h solutions.
T H E MOBILE

It j a n g l e s in a m i l d b r e e z e A b o v e m y s o n t u c k e d i n his c o t . E a c h m o r n i n g h e w a k e s a n d strains T o r e a c h its i m p o s s i b l e h e i g h t , B u t misses a l w a y s t h o s e t u r n i n g b i r d s , Plastic fish s w i m m i n g i n t h e sky.

RAILINGS

M y s o n s w i n g s f r o m b l a c k railings W h e r e o n c e a horse was tethered. S n o w settles o n his w o o l l e n h a t ,

404

Crystals dissolve in strands. In a p h o t o g r a p h he squints ahead To a future from w h i c h w e ' v e g o n e .

T H E DEAD PIANIST

T h e p i a n i s t ' s f u n e r a l passes T e r r a c e s a t e v e n i n g s , his l o n g F i n g e r s j o i n e d o n a still s t o m a c h . I t h i n k of J o h n Field d e a d in M o s c o w A n d hear a n o c t u r n e settling In leaves f r o m trees on W e l l i n g t o n R o a d .

T H E BUS S T A T I O N

T h e p a s s p o r t p h o t o b o o t h flashes In the bus station near the river. I watch it from my high w i n d o w : A message sent w i t h a m i r r o r F r o m d e s p e r a t e souls i n a v a l l e y , F r a n t i c for a n s w e r s i n t h e far hills.

T H E POET UPSTAIRS

T h e p o e t is w o r k i n g upstairs. I c a n h e a r his t y p e w r i t e r c l a t t e r i n g Between our arguments, poems made A m o n g shouts and accusations: O u r fierce a n g e r a d u s t t h a t c l o g s T h e b r i g h t n e e d l e o f his w o r k .

TEA

E n d l e s s i n f u s i o n s , silver s t r a i n e r s . T e a p o t s , b a g s d a n g l i n g f r o m strings In cups w h e r e dried leaves d a r k e n . R o s e h i p a n d hibiscus, c a m o m i l e , m i n t , A n d l a p s a n g s o u c h o n g w i t h its s m e l l O f w o o d s m o k e f r o m a forest h e a r t h .

in .

T H E LOST WIFE

A p o e t b y t h e fireside cries F o r his d e a d w i f e . W h i s k e y d r a w s Sadness f r o m h i m l i k e a k e e n . H e talks o f v o i c e , h a i r , s k i n , H o l d s a ring up to the light A n d f r a m e s t h e s p a c e w h e r e s h e has b e e n .

THE OLD SCHOOL

T h e school is g o n e from Belgrave Place, R a t s s c r a m b l e i n briars n e a r t h e w a l l . A l i g h t b u r n s in a c l o s e d c l a s s r o o m W h e r e I sense t h e ghosts of children, T h e i r p i n a f o r e s p r e s s e d a n d t h e lost F u t u r e a blackboard at w h i c h they stand.

T H E N I G H T SKY

A m o o n y o u could hang a coat on, A p a n t o m i m e c u r v e i n t h e sky. S m o g r i s e s a b o v e roofs o f t h e city F r o m h o m e s rife w i t h offerings To appease it before it disappears: T h e last g o d g o i n g i n a sliver o f l i g h t .

406

C A T H A L

S E A R C A I G H

B o r n Meenala, C o u n t y Donegal, 1956. Educated at National Institute for H i g h e r Education, Limerick. Has w o r k e d as radio p r o d u c e r for RTE. Writer-in-residence at the University of Ulster at Coleraine and Q u e e n ' s University Belfast, 1 9 9 2 - 3 . Lives on small farm in C o u n t y Donegal. O Searcaigh is a productive p o e t w h o brings a variety of m o o d s to his exploration of the relationship of his native Gaeltacht area of D o n e g a l to m o d e r n mass culture. T h o u g h the s o m e w h a t self-conscious elegance of his p o e m s on D u b l i n and L o n d o n is not w i t h o u t its attractions, the plainer, m o r e elevated m o d e o f ' N a Popa Crafige' and ' C a o i n e a d h ' is finally m o r e convincing. Translation cannot do justice to the despairing recourse to English as the language of personal freedom in 'B Bhradach'.

in.'

B BHRADACH do Liam O Muirthde D'irigh s ddthuirseach darfainn d e n uaigneas a shnonn anuas i d t l a m h frd na m a o l c h n o c i n is frd na g l e a n n t i n c h o m h m a l l t r i a l l a c h l e hearse t r r a i m h ; de bhailte beaga m a r b h n t a na m b u n c h n o c n a c h b h f u i l aos g i o n t u a c h o i r e a d l e c r a f g ; de na seanlaochra, de lucht roiste na d t o r t g a d ' i o m p a i g h an d o m a s a c h ina deargfhd is a b h o d h r a i g h pink b l i a i n i n d i a i d h b l i a n a ag isteacht leo ag m a o m h as seanfhid an tseantsaoil; d e n a bungalows b h e a g a b h n a at c h o m h g r n n a le dandruff in ascaill c h b e a c h an G h l e a n n a ; de na d a o i n e g a gafa i gcage a g c i n n i n a dlta a i n m h i t h e allta a chaill a n g l i c e a s ; de t h r thrua na scalaochta i dtruacntas l u c h t n a d f h o s t a o c h t a , d e n easpa m e a n m n a , d e n iargltacht, den chngaigeantacht ar dh t h a o b h an Ghleanna; de na leadhbacha bretha thos i d T i g h Ruair a c h u i r an fear ag b o g a d a i g h a n n le f o n n ach n a c h dtabharfadh trl ar a raibh de sh ann; de theorainneacha treibhe, de sheanchlaiocha teaghlaigh, de bheith ag m n a mhshstachta in adan na mballai a t h g c i n e a g u s c r e i d e a m h t h a r t air g o t e a n n . D'irigh s dthuirseach de bheith teanntaithe sa G h l e a n n is le ride b brada m a i d i n a m h i n earraigh chlearil s na balla is hightailil a n o n n ada.

NA PIOPAI CREAFOIGE N chasfaidh tusa t h a r t d o c h l o i g e a n n a g n s a n bs a g r o l l a d h c h u g a t m a r a n t - a i g a n .

40H

A RUNAWAY C O W for Liam O Muirthilc I ' d say h e ' d h a d t o o m u c h o f t h e d e s o l a t i o n t h a t trickles d o w n t h r o u g h the glens and the hillocks steadily as a h e a r s e ; o f t h e lifeless villages i n t h e f o o t h i l l s as b a r e of y o u n g folk as of soil; of the old codgers, the h u m m o c k - b l a s t e r s w h o turned the peat into g o o d red earth a n d w h o d e a f e n e d h i m p i n k y e a r after y e a r w i t h t h e i r talk o f t h e g r a n d s o d s o f t h e o l d days; o f t h e little w h i t e b u n g a l o w s , a t t r a c t i v e as dandruff in the hairy armpit of the G l e n ; of the y o u n g p e o p l e trapped in their destinies like c a g e d a n i m a l s o u t o f t o u c h w i t h t h e i r i n s t i n c t ; of the T h r e e Sorrows of Storytelling in the pity of u n e m p l o y m e n t , of l o w morale, and of the remoteness and narrow-mindedness o f b o t h sides o f t h e G l e n ; o f t h e fine y o u n g t h i n g s d o w n i n R o r y ' s w h o w o k e the man in him b u t w o u l d n ' t g i v e a c u r s e for his a t t e n t i o n s ; o f clan b o u n d a r i e s , o f o l d tribal d i t c h e s , o f pissing his f r u s t r a t i o n against t h e solid walls race a n d r e l i g i o n b u i l t r o u n d h i m . H e ' d had too m u c h of being stuck in the Glen and w i t h a leap like a r u n a w a y c o w ' s o n e spring m o r n i n g he cleared t h e walls a n d hightailed a w a y . translated by Patrick Crotty

THE CI AY PIPES
Y o u w o n ! b e the o n e t o turn a w a y w h e n death rolls i n l o w . m i s y o u l i k e t h e o < c m .

I .i'i

C o i n n e o i d h t a g s t n a d h air g o seasta a g u s ag s c u a b a d h c h u g a t i s t e a c h i n a s p r a i s t e a c h a geala f h i o r na s o r a o c h t a . C o i n n e o i d h t d o chiall a g u s do c h a d f a a g u s ag siollfarnaigh thar chladai d'inchinne go dti go m b e i d h s ar d'aithne g o huile agus g o h i o m l n dreach m a r a rinne t agus t i do t h a c h r n ar thrnna Mhachaire Rabhartaigh agus t o n n t a m a r a an Atlantaigh ag sealbh do cholainne. A c h sula n d e a c h a i g h d o s h a o l a r n e a m h n i s h r o i c h tusa c i u m h a i s a n c h l a d a i g h . Tarlidh a mhacasamhail anseo. Sroichfidh t d o m h a n na m b e o tar is d u l i d t a i t h i an d u i b h e a g i n le d ' a i g n e ; a c h b e i d h sala a n tsile o r t g o d e o , b e i d h d o i m h n e a c h t agat m a r d h u i n e : as b a o l an b h i s t i o c f a i d h f i r i n n e . Ni thabharfainn de shamhail duit i mo dhn a c h iadsan i g c o i l l t e C h o l u m b i a a r l i g h m f d t a o b h daofa s a l e a b h a r l a n n : d r e a m a chaitheann popa daite crafige, popa nr sideadh riamh lena n d a n a m h ach scaobga crafige a baineadh i mbaol beatha i n d i c h s e a n - n a m h a d , gleann scthach t i m e p a l l a i t h e l e gaist, g a r d a a g u s s a i g h e a d a n i m h e . D a r leo sid a deir an t-alt tuairisce n a c h bhfuil p o p a ar b i t h i o m l n , seachas na c i n n a b h f u i l b a o l ag b a i n t le s o l t h a r a g c u i d c r a f i g e .

410

Y o u w i l l h o l d t o y o u r steadfast g a z e , as it c o m e s t i d i n g i n , all plash a n d g l i t t e r from the rim of eternity. Y o u will k e e p y o u r head. Y o u will c o m e t o y o u r senses a g a i n a s i t foams o v e r t h e ridged beaches of y o u r brain a n d y o u w i l l t a k e it all in and k n o w it completely: y o u will be a child again, o u t on the strand at Magheraroarty, your body abandoned altogether t o t h e lift o f t h e A t l a n t i c . But before y o u w e n t the w h o l e w a y then away into nothingness, you w o u l d touch the bottom. A n d this w i l l b e w h a t h a p p e n s t o y o u h e r e : you'll go t h r o u g h a black hole of initiation, t h e n reach the land of the living; b u t t h e seal o f t h e b r i n e w i l l b e o n y o u f o r e v e r a n d y o u ' l l h a v e d e p t h as a p e r s o n : you'll walk from danger of death into the truth. H e r e is t h e b e s t i m a g e I c a n find: y o u are like t h e forest p e o p l e o f C o l u m b i a I r e a d a b o u t i n t h e library, a t r i b e w h o s m o k e clay p i p e s , c o l o u r e d p i p e s t h a t u s e d t o h a v e t o b e m a d e f r o m this o n e t h i n g : basketfuls o f clay s c o o p e d o u t i n fatal d a n g e r in e n e m y c o u n t r y , in a scaresome place full o f traps a n d g u a r d s a n d p o i s o n e d a r r o w s . A c c o r d i n g to this article, t h e y b e l i e v e t h a t t h e o n l y fully p e r f e c t p i p e s are o n e s m a d e o u t o f t h e clay collected u n d e r such e x t r e m e conditions. translated by Seamus Heaney

CAOINEADH igcuimhne mo mhthar C h a o i n m n a cuileatacha a r u c h t m o mhthara An l a b h s a i g h M o l l i e - p e a t a de s h e a n c h a o r a Istigh i g c r e a g a c h a c r o c h t a na B e i t h i . A cuart a b h m u i d l m a r b h n t a s a m h r a i d h I s b r anla o r a i n n b e i r t a g d r e a s n a g c a o r a c h Siar na h a i l l t r e a c h a n u a i r a t i m i d an m a r f a c h S n a b e a n n a d o d h r e a p t h a . P r a c h i n d h u b h a ina s c a o t h a A h i t h e i n a b e a t h a g u r i m i g h a n d d e i r i d h aisti De c h n e a d choscrach a m h i n is gan i o n a i n n iarraidh T h a r r t h l a a t h a b h a i r t u i r t h i t h i o s sna s c e a l p a c h a . N thiocfa m a shsamh is an tocht ag teacht triom; D ' f h i s c l e n a h u c h t m i s a g c s a m h m o chaill l i o m Go dti gur chuireas an racht ada ochtar mo chro. D ' i o m p a i r abhaile m ansin ar a guailneacha Ag gealladh go ndanfadh si ceapair arn prata. Inniu t mo T h e a n g a i d h ag saothr an bhis. A n s a c h t na bhfil - t e a n g a i d h r n - a i t h r e a c h a Gafa i g c r e a g a c h a c r o c h t a na Failli Is g a n i o n a i n n a t h a r r t h i l le d s a c h t . Cluinim na smeachannai deireanacha Is na hanacha creiche ag teacht go tapaidh, A n g o b a c r a o s a c h a r i d h c h u n feille. O d l i g f e a d h si li a m h i n gaile - li c a t h a A chuirfeadh na creachadir c h u n reatha, A c h s e o ag c r e a t h n , s e o ag g i l l e a d h ; Nil mo mhthair anseo le m a shuaimhni a thuilleadh Is n dhanfaidh gealladh an p h i a n a m h a o h i .

LAMENT in memory of my mother I cried on my m o t h e r ' s breast, cried sore T h e day Mollie died, o u r old pet e w e T r a p p e d on a rockface up at Beithi. I t w a s s u l t r y h e a t , w e ' d b e e n l o o k i n g for h e r , Sweating and panting, driving sheep back F r o m t h e cliff-edge w h e n w e s a w h e r a t t a c k e d O n a l e d g e far d o w n . C r o w s a n d m o r e c r o w s W e r e e a t i n g a t h e r . W e h e a r d t h e cries B u t c o u l d n ' t get near. She was ripped to death A s w e suffered h e r t e r r i b l e , w i l d , last b r e a t h A n d my child's heart b r o k e . I c o u l d n ' t be calmed N o matter h o w m u c h she'd tighten her arms A n d g a t h e r m e close. I j u s t c r i e d o n T i l l s h e h u s h e d m e a t last w i t h a p i g g y b a c k A n d t h e p r o m i s e o f treats o f p o t a t o - c a k e . T o - d a y it's m y l a n g u a g e t h a t ' s i n its t h r o e s , T h e poets' passion, m y m o t h e r s ' fathers' Mothers' language, abandoned and trapped O n a fatal l e d g e t h a t w e w o n ' t a t t e m p t . She's in a g o n y , I can hear h e r h e a v e A n d gasp a n d s t r u g g l e a s t h e y a r r i v e , T h e beaked and ravenous scavengers W h o are n e v e r far. O h i f o n l y a n g e r C a m e h o w l i n g w i l d o u t o f h e r grief, If only she'd bare the teeth of her love A n d r o u t the pack. B u t she's giving in, She's quivering badly, my m o t h e r ' s g o n e A n d p r o m i s e s n o w w o n ' t ease t h e p a i n . translated by Seamus Heaney

II \

P E T E R

S I R R

Born Waterford, 1960. Educated at Trinity College D u b l i n . Lived for n u m b e r of years in Italy and Holland. N o w lives in D u b l i n , w h e r e he director of the Irish Writers' C e n t r e . A frequent poetry reviewer for the Irish Times. Sirr's p o e m s are notable for their rapid m o v e m e n t and, at their best, reveal a restless, penetrating intelligence.

A FEW HELPFUL HINTS Tell t h e m w h a t y o u like. Tell t h e m t h e w o r l d i s f l a t a n d w h e n y o u g e t t o t h e e d g e y o u fall i n t o t h e usual d a r k n e s s , h e l l i f y o u like b u t a n y w h e r e will d o , a n y s t o r i e d s p a c e m y t h i c a l r e t u r n e r s h a v e w h i n e d of, salty a n d s m e l l i n g o f loss. T e l l t h e m t h e rain falls a n d steals slyly up a n d falls, a n d falls tell t h e m e v e r y t h i n g t w i c e for e m p h a s i s a n d t h e n again t h e n e x t d a y for r e v i s i o n . Set t h e m tests o n t h e s a m e t h i n g t i m e a n d t i m e a g a i n . T e l l t h e m m o s t o f life i s r e p e t i t i v e a n d this w i l l s t a n d t h e m i n g o o d stead. Tell t h e m about gravity and love, drop the w h o l e w o r l d on their heads if you have to, the broad curriculum o f h a t r e d a n d d e s i r e a n d t h e n e e d for m o n e y a n d l o v e , tell t h e m s o m e t h i n g s are p e r m i s s i b l e a n d s o m e less s o , t h o u g h i d e a l l y w e ' d p r e f e r i t i f y o u left t h a t t o us. A b o v e all d o n ' t be h e a v y h a n d e d , k e e p a light t o n e , encourage t h e m to laugh, encourage t h e m to believe t h e y are g e t t i n g a w a y w i t h s o m e t h i n g w h e n t h e y d o . E n c o u r a g e t h e m t o see y o u a s a fragile merely h u m a n being. Forget things, mix up names a n d b e o c c a s i o n a l l y unfair i n t h e a l l o t m e n t o l m a r k s .

Ill

Tell t h e m about yourself if it helps. A l l o w y o u r e m o t i o n s t o e n t e r t h e syllabus, w h e n r e a d i n g a p o e m , o r t e l l i n g t h e m things that have h a p p e n e d . Break d o w n if y o u have to, rail against t h e w o r l d a n d its m i n d l e s s c r u e l t i e s . T e l l t h e m w e c o u l d all b e b l o w n o u t o f i t or the sun m i g h t go out or t o o m u c h of it get t h r o u g h . Tell t h e m n o t to use aerosols, organise a project o n it. P r o j e c t s are g o o d . W e l i k e t o stress the need to w o r k together. H a r m o n y i s t h e oil i n t h e m a c h i n e r y , o r s o m e t h i n g like t h a t . T e l l t h e m a b o u t t h e m e n w h o c a m e t o save u s w i t h beautiful voices and a p o e t r y w e w o u l d l i k e t o h a v e f o u n d t i m e for, w e m a y y e t retire to. Tell t h e m a b o u t those w h o h a v e still t o c o m e , shuffling i n a w k w a r d n e s s a n d a n g e r from the cardboard slums that t r e m b l e e v e n n o w on the outskirts, w h o s e p o e m s m a y already be struggling in o u r b l o o d o r h u r t l i n g t h r o u g h t h e d a r k c a t h e d r a l spaces a c h i e v e d a n d p u r e , u n s e t t l i n g t h e stars.

n,

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M C D O N A L D

B o r n Belfast, 1962. Educated at Methodist College, Belfast, and University College, Oxford. Lectures in English at the University of Bristol. A critic of distinction, M c D o n a l d has published Louis MacNeice: The Poet in his Contexts (1991). M c D o n a l d ' s is a cerebral, self-aware, resolutely u n s h o w y poetry. 'Sunday in Great T e w ' explores an exiled n o r t h e r n Protestant's response to the R e m e m b r a n c e Day massacre at Enniskillen in 1987, an event the p o e m n e v e r directly m e n t i o n s .

SUNDAY IN GREAT T E W 8th November 1 It's t i m e t o g e t b a c k t o t h e car. A l r e a d y , a t half-past t h r e e , t h e l i g h t ' s t h r e e - q u a r t e r s g o n e , a n d b a c k across t h e g r e e n y o u can w a t c h the shifting greys of a subtle fog by n o w c o m i n g o v e r t o freeze t h e steps w e l e a v e , o u r g h o s t s ' f o o t p r i n t s , t o slight m a r k s i n N o v e m b e r grass, a n d t h a t ' s t h e last o f u s this a f t e r n o o n , this y e a r , i n this m o d e l village a half-hour's drive from Oxford, w h e r e we c o m e in s u m m e r l i k e t h e o t h e r t o u r i s t s , t o d r i n k d e c e n t b e e r , sniff w o o d s m o k e , a n d a d m i r e t h a t c h e d roofs on sturdy, stone-built houses, as t h o u g h t h e w h o l e place w e r e a replica of s o m e E n g l a n d , a n i d e a o n s h o w , u n c h a n g i n g , glassy, n o t q u i t e t o u c h a b l e . B u t this i s N o v e m b e r , a n d S u n d a y . I t i s S u n d a y i n G r e a t T e w . 2 E v e r y visit n o w a d a y s i s a n act o f r e m e m b r a n c e , m e a s u r i n g c h a n g e s i n u s against s o m e o t h e r s u m m e r w h e n w e sat h e r e d r i n k i n g , a n d s w a p p e d o u r r a n d o m gossip - friends, w o r k and b o o k s , hard politics or love 1987

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across a w o o d e n t a b l e i n a n a l w a y s b u s y p u b w i t h p r o p e r b e e r o n sale, n o t t h e w a t e r y O x f o r d slops, a n d w h e r e , a s t h e i r s p e c i a l i t y , t h e y sell h a n d - m a d e p i p e s , briars a n d c l a y - p i p e s , e v e r y o n e t h e g e n u i n e a r t i c l e , (though these, admittedly, we never got around to buying); o n e y e a r w e ' r e t a l k i n g a b o u t t h a t h e a d s t r o n g , h a p p y girl y o u ' d c h a s e d u n l u c k i l y for m o n t h s ; a n o t h e r , a n d w e ' r e d i s c u s s i n g far-off acts o f w a r , t h e real t h i n g , h e r e i n t h e F a l k l a n d A r m s . 3 T h e m a n o r h o u s e , concealed b e h i n d thick trees and hedges, m i g h t w e l l b e h o m e n o w for s o m e e c c e n t r i c m i l l i o n a i r e w h o s e l d o m s h o w s his face; f r o m t h e r o a d g o i n g u p h i l l t o t h e c h u r c h , y o u c a n see t h r o u g h gaps d o w n t o t h e h o u s e itself, h e a v y a n d s t r o n g , like t h e b r a s h h i s t o r y i t s u g g e s t s , having and h o l d i n g so m u c h ; was it here since the Civil W a r , w h e n the bookish m a n w h o o w n e d the place, Lord Falkland, w a s a loyalist w h o f o u n d h i m s e l f o u t m a n o e u v r e d ? O n c e he played patron here to the poet A b r a h a m C o w l e y - o u t m a n o e u v r e d himself, i n his w a y , b y P a r l i a m e n t ' s staunch w o r k e r M i l t o n , t r u e t o different lights, b u t blind, po-faced, pig-headed and holy, almost an Ulsterman. 4 N a m e s of the wars change, and of course the protagonists change: t h e c h u r c h c o n t a i n s its v a r i o u s slabs o f m e m o r i a l s t o n e w i t h n a m e s o f t h e d e a d m e n , w h e r e t o d a y a single w r e a t h o f p o p p i e s d o e s its d u t y , pays t h e m its stiff h o m a g e o f g l a r i n g r e d f l o w e r s for d e a t h , r o o t l e s s a n d p a p e r y , b u n c h e d t o g e t h e r in grief or pride, or w i t h indifference, on a Sunday like any o t h e r S u n d a y in N o v e m b e r ; t h e r e ' s a s m e l l o f d a m p m i x e d w i t h t h e s m e l l o f g e n t e e l ladies a n d t h e c o l d slips f o r w a r d f r o m t h e walls a n d t h e d a r k floor s o thai h e r e , t o o , w e must b e c o m e ' aliens, shut o u t

II /

f r o m w h a t e v e r w e m i g h t b e t e m p t e d t o call o u r o w n , r e m i n d e d t h a t t h e d e a d are c l o s e , t h a t h e r e t h e p o p p y i s a n E n g l i s h f l o w e r .
5

T h e r e are n o w o r d s t o find for t h e d e a d , a n d n o g e s t u r e s , n o s e r m o n s t o b e t u r n e d , n o c u r s e s t o lay n o w a n d for e v e r on one house, or the other, or on both; there is no need t o r e r u n t h e s c a l d i n g i m a g e s t h e y h a v e left i n o u r k e e p i n g , o r p i t c h h o t m i s e r y i n t o this c o l d c o m f o r t , a s t h o u g h o n e i l l - b r e d o u t b u r s t h e r e m i g h t m a k e s e n s e o f it; there is no n e e d to w a t c h television in the afternoon t o u n d e r s t a n d t h a t n o b o d y has e v e r d i e d w i t h a g o o d r e a s o n , a n d see t h e Irish s l a u g h t e r o n e a n o t h e r like w o g s ; there is no need, only n o w a blinding appetite, this a f t e r n o o n , t o m o r r o w , t h e d a y after; s o t o n i g h t i n t h e Killyhevlin H o t e l t h e t e a m f r o m ITN w i l l b e o r d e r i n g c h a m p a g n e .
6

O n e drink today, one pint of beer, and o n e short walk in t h e s o b e r afternoon a r o u n d an English village, a c o n v e r s a t i o n j u m p i n g from o n e silence to a n o t h e r i n r i p e O x o n i a n v o w e l s , t w o figures o n t h e i r o w n in some pretend backwater with picture-postcard views, slipping discreetly into a p r o p e r c o u n t r y c h u r c h y a r d and q u o t i n g poetry, and laughing n o w that everything's t o o l a t e , i m a g i n i n g t h e r i g h t h i s t o r y for t h e p l a c e , inglorious, largely m u t e : t w o generals discussing t e r m s , t h e i r f i s t s set h a r d o n t h e o a k t a b l e t h a t ' s b e t w e e n t h e m , w h e r e n e i t h e r will say t h e w o r d ' d e f e a t ' , t h o u g h b o t h r e t u r n w i t h d i f f e r e n t n a m e s for v i c t o r y t o t h e i r b e a t e n p e o p l e . 7 E v e n i n t h e m i d d l e o f w i n t e r , t h e sky i s e v e r y w h e r e , folded above us as we walk with hands sunk in o u r pockets,

I I H

o u r fingers w o r r y i n g o v e r c o l d c o i n s a n d k e y - r i n g s ; it c o v e r s us c o m p l e t e l y as a n u m b i n g a n a e s t h e t i c s o t h a t e v e r y t i m e w e m i g h t l o o k u p , t h e t w o o f us, t h e t r e e s w e c a n see w i t h f o g t r a i l i n g i n t h e i r b r a n c h e s , t h e s c a r e c r o w s t a n d i n g u p i n its o n e b l a n k field (or w h a t l o o k s f r o m h e r e like a s c a r e c r o w ) , t h e r o w o f o l d h o u s e s s n u g and expensive a n d e m p t y , e v e n the p u b b e h i n d us, all b e c o m e i n c i d e n t a l , o b l i q u e m a r k s set i n t h e m a r g i n , s w e p t o u t t o t h e e d g e s o f a s i n g l e , clear p e r s p e c t i v e , t h e o n e t h a t m a t t e r s m o s t , o r least, a n d n e v e r c h a n g e s . 8 A f l o w e r o f c r u m p l e d p a p e r w i t h its b u t t o n o f b l a c k plastic has fallen f r o m s o m e b o d y ' s c o a t , a n d i s l y i n g h e r e b e s i d e a v a c a n t p h o n e - b o x o p p o s i t e t h e village s c h o o l along with an e m p t y packet of twenty Benson and Hedges a n d w h a t looks like a bus-ticket; such m o d e s t litter m i g h t b e t h e last t h i n g y o u n o t i c e , a n d for all t h e cars p a r k e d there's n o b o d y here but us walking out in the open, a n d e v e n w e a r e m a k i n g o u r w a y b a c k t o a car, o p e n i n g , closing doors, clicking in seat-belts, switching on d i p p e d headlights and starting the e n g i n e ; t u r n i n g a r o u n d and taking a right at the deserted school, o n o u r w a y h o m e , l e a v i n g a b s o l u t e l y n o t h i n g b e h i n d us.

PEACETIME H a l f - w a y d o w n y o u lose t h e s e n s e o f falling, call off h o s t i l i t i e s b e t w e e n t h i n g s a n d t h e s o u l and w a v e perhaps, n o w t i m e is to spare, o n t h e clear road from h e r e t o w h e r e v e r ; for e v e r y o n e i s c r y i n g i n r e l i e f and congratulation, historians and survivors
disc u s s t h e n g r i e v o u s m e m o r i e s o n air,

II '

d i z z y i n this late r e p r i e v e a n d f r e e d o m , a n d it all h u r t s like a c h i l d b i r t h , c r a z y w i t h drugs and n e w s and people and c h a m p a g n e . T h i s is all h a p p e n i n g b e f o r e its t i m e o r after; this i s w e e k e n d l e a v e ; t h e s e are t h e e x p e r t s a n d t h e b l o n d e c h i l d r e n r e a d y t o sing, l i k e a h a p p y a r m y ; t h i s is a g o o d d a y for flying; this is t h e c a t ' s c r a d l e o f t h e b r i d g e a n d t h e e x c e l l e n t sky; this i s t h e safe e n d o f e v e r y t h i n g ; this i s t h e b e a r d a n d t h e d r o p p i n g smile of J o h n B e r r y m a n g o i n g to h e a v e n .

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M O O N E Y

Born Belfast, 1964. G r e w up in N e w t o w n a r d s , C o u n t y D o w n . Educated at Q u e e n ' s University Belfast. Lived in L o n d o n for a numbi of years before r e t u r n i n g to Belfast. W o r k s as a m e m b e r of faculty at tl Poets' H o u s e , P o r t m u c k , C o u n t y Antrim. M o o n e y ' s is perhaps the most quirky, interesting talent a m o n g an e m e r g e n t generation of n o r t h e r n poets uneasily negotiating the influence of Paul M u l d o o n . T h e macabre satire of his low-life L o n d o n sequence Grub (1993) yields to a cautious lyricism in 'Anna A k h m a t o v a ' s Funeral'.

A N N A AKHMATOVA'S FUNERAL It looks to me like a h e r o ' s w e l c o m e , as t h e y carry y o u on their shoulders t o the grave, w i t h n o m o r e delicacy than they w o u l d cheap furniture, like a slender m a t c h w o o d w a r d r o b e full o f o l d c l o t h e s a n d c o a t h a n g e r s or an i n c o m p l e t e d i n n e r service packed in shavings and newsprint. If I t o o k it at face v a l u e I ' d say t h e u n t i d i n e s s of it all sits easily w i t h p o e t r y , s u g g e s t i n g a life lived a c c o r d i n g to n o b o d y ' s rules a m o n g m e s s y b o o k s h e l v e s , tables b u r i e d u n d e r a n a v a l a n c h e o f drafts i n a h o u s e t h a t ' s a h o m e for a n y o n e w h o happens to knock on the door. In t h e k i t c h e n a p a n of m i l k boils over, s m o k e burps from the samovar, a m o n t h ' s salads t u r n b i t t e r . . . A n d , in the same way, you might never h a v e b o t h e r e d t o dress yourself o r put o n m a k e - u p , t o a n s w c i letters

o r p a y t h e bills. T h e r a g g e d e d g e unravels back from the graveside i n t o a n y n u m b e r o f p o s s i b l e lives, e a c h o n e less o r d e r l y , less d i s c i p l i n e d , a n d a l r e a d y , s o s o o n after t h e m all, history is learning to ignore y o u , d e s p i t e t h e p r e s e n c e o f t h e film c r e w and the mourners, w h o might as well be s p e c t a t o r s filling a s t a d i u m o r t h e n i g h t shift o n its w a y h o m e . A d m i t it, it has its a t t r a c t i o n s , this r o u g h - h a n d e d slovenliness of things: y o u c o u l d slip t o o n e side u n n o t i c e d and w a t c h , suppressing a smile t h a t says, ' H o w l i g h t s h e is, h o w easily they hold her up above their heads, no heavier t h a n a child or a p o e m , n o m o r e solid t h a n t h e p r i e s t ' s s e r m o n or t h e c r u m b l i n g laws of gravity.' Weightless, you tiptoe backwards o u t of t h e c e m e t e r y , like a shy guest still d i s t r u s t i n g h e r i n v i t a t i o n , g o h o m e t o a n y o f t h e lives y o u l e d w i t h o u t leaving so m u c h as a t h u m b p r i n t o r a stray e y e l a s h t o b e p i c k e d u p by the unsteady gaze of the camera skirting the edge of absence.

I !'

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Grateful acknowledgement is made to: Anvil Press Poetry for permission to reprint the following poems by Thomas McCarthy: 'Mr Nabokov's M e m o r y ' from Tlie Non-Aligned Storyteller (1984); 'Persephone, 1978' and 'The Standing Trains' from Seven Winters in Paris (1989) Blackstaft Press tor permission to reprint the following poems by Paul Durcan: 'The Late Mr Charles Lynch Digresses' and 'Six Nuns Die in Convent Inferno' (extract) from Going Home to Russia (1987); for permission to reprint the following poems by John Hewitt: 'Freehold' (extract), 'The Ram's Horn', 'The Colony', 'Substance and Shadow', 'An Irishman in Coventry' and 'A Local Poet' from Collected Poems (1991); for permission to reprint the following poem by Martin Mooney: 'Anna Akhmatova's Funeral' from Grub (1993) Bloodaxe Books for permission to reprint the following poems by Ian Duhig: Tr Hen Iaith A'i C h a n e u o n ' and 'Reforma Agraria' from The Bradford Count (1991); for permission to reprint the following poems by Brendan Kennelly: 'Three Tides' and 'Vintage' from Cromwell (1987); for permission to reprint the following poem by Peter McDonald: 'Sunday in Great T e w ' from Biting the Wax (1989) T h e Calder Educational Trust, London, and the Samuel Beckett Estate for the following poems: 'Cascando' and 'Roundelay' by Samuel Beckett and 'my way is in the sand flowing' and 'what would I do without this world faceless incurious' by Samuel Beckett and translated from the French by Samuel Beckett, from Collected Poems 1930-1978, published by John Calder (Publishers) Ltd, London. Copyright Samuel Beckett 1936, 1948, 1976, 1984 and copyright the Samuel Beckett Estate 1994 Carcanet Press for permission to reprint the following poems by Padraic Fallon: 'A Flask of Brandy', 'Kiltartan Legend', 'Yeats at Athenry Perhaps', 'Three Houses' (extract) and 'A Bit of Brass' from Collected Poems (1990); for permission to reprint the following poems by Eavan Boland: 'Listen. This Is the Noise of Myth' and 'Fond Memory' from Selected Poems (1989); 'The Black Lace Fan My Mother Gave M e ' , ' T h e Latin Lesson' and 'Midnight Flowers' from Outside History (1990); 'Anna Liffey' from //; a Time of Violence (1994) Chatto and Windus for permission to reprint the following poems by Bernard O ' D o n o g h u e : 'A N u n Takes the Veil' and ' T h e Weakness' from The Weakness (1991) R. Dardis Clarke, 21 Pleasants Street, Dublin 8, for permission to reprint the following poems by Austin Clarke: 'The Lost Heifer', 'The Young Woman of Beare' (extract), 'The Planter's Daughter', 'Celibacy', 'Martha Blake', 'The Straying Student', 'Penal Law', 'Si Christopher', 'Early Unfinished Sketch', 'Martha 01.ike .n I ill \ O n e ' and Tiresias' (extract) from < Collected Poems (1974)

i!I

An Clchomhar Teoranta for permission to reprint the following poems by Mirtn O Direm: 'Deireadh R', ' C u i m h n e an Domhnaigh' and 'Cranna Foirtif from Dnta 1939-1979 (1980); all poems translated by Patrick Crotty Cl Iar-Chonnachta T e o for permission to reprint the following poems by Cathal O Searcaigh: 'B Bhradach' (translated by Patrick Crotty), 'Na Popa Crafige' (translated by Seamus Heaney) and 'Caoineadh' (translated by Seamus Heaney) from Homecoming/An Bealach 'na Bhailc (1993) T h e estate of Brian Coffey for permission to reprint the following poems: 'Death ot Hektor' (extract) and 'For What for W h o m Unwanted' (extracts) from Poems and Versions 1929-1990 (1991) Dedalus Press for permission to reprint the following poems by Denis Devlin: 'Ank'hor Vat', 'Little Elegy' and 'Memoirs of a Turcoman Diplomat: Oteli Asia Palas, Inc.' (extract) from Collected Poems (1989) T h e estate of Denis Devlin for permission to reprint the following poem: 'Renewal by H e r Element' from Collected Poems (1964) Paul Durcan for permission to reprint the following poems: 'The Hat Factory' and 'Tullynoe: Tte-a-Tte in the Parish Priest's Parlour' from 77/c Selected Paul Durcan (2nd ed., 1985); 'The Haulier's Wife Meets Jesus on the Road Near M o o n e ' and 'Around the Corner from Francis Bacon' from The Berlin Wall Cafe (1985); ' T h e Levite and His Concubine at Gibeah' from Crazy About Women (1991) Faber and Faber for permission to reprint the following poems by Fergus Allen: 'Elegy for Faustina' and ' T h e Fall' from Tlie Brown Parrots of Providencia (1993); for permission to reprint the following poem by Samuel Beckett: 'Words and Music' (extract) from Collected Shorter Plays (1984); for permission to reprint the following poems by Seamus Heaney: 'Churning Day' from Death of a Naturalist (1966); 'Broagh' and 'The Tollund Man' from Wintering Out (1972); 'Sunlight' and 'Funeral Rites' from North (1975); 'Casualty', 'Badgers' and 'The Harvest Bow' from Field Work (1979); ' T h e Birthplace' and ' T h e Cleric' from Station Island (1984); 'From the Frontier of Writing' and 'From the Canton of Expectation' from 77K* Haw Lantern (1987); 'Wheels within Wheels', 'Lightenings V I I I ' and 'Lightenings I X ' from Seeing Tilings (1991); for permission to reprint the following poems by Louis MacNeice: 'Mayfly', 'Snow', 'Autumn Journal X V l ' , 'Meeting Point', 'Autobiography', 'The Libertine', 'Western Landscape', 'Autumn Sequel X X ' (extract), 'The Once-in-Passing', 'House on a Cliff, 'Soap Suds', 'The Suicide' and 'Star-gazer' from Collected Poems (1966); tor permission to reprint the following poems by Paul Muldoon: 'Lunch with Pancho Villa', 'Cuba', 'Anseo', 'Gathering Mushrooms' and 'The More a Man Has the More a Man Wants' from Selected Poems 1968-1983 (1986); 'Something Else' from Meeting the British (1987); 'Cauliflowers' from Madoc (1990); for permission to reprint the following poems by T o m Paulin: 'Pot Burial' and 'Where Art Is a Midwife' from Tlie Strange Museum (1980); 'Desertmartin', 'Off the Back of a Lorry' and 'A Written Answer' from Liberty Tree (1983); 'The Lonely T o w e r ' from Walking a Line (1994); for permission to reprint the following poems by Maurice Riordan: 'Milk', 'Time O u t ' and 'A Word from the Loki' from .1 1 1 ord from the Loki (1995)

Farrar, Straus and Giroux, Inc., for permission to reprint the following poems: 'Broagh', 'Churning Day', 'Funeral Rites', 'Sunlight' and 'The Tollund Man' from Poems 1965-1975 by Seamus Heaney. Copyright 19H0 by Seamus Heaney; 'Badgers', 'Casualty', 'From the Canton of Expectation', 'From the Frontier of Writing' and 'The Harvest Bow' from Selected Poems 1966-19H7 by Seamus Heaney. Copyright 1 9 9 0 by Seamus Heaney; 'The Birthplace' and ' T h e Cleric' from Station Island by Seamus Heaney. Copyright 1985 by Seamus Heaney; 'Wheels within Wheels', 'Lightenings VI11' and 'Lightenings IX' from Seeing Tilings by Seamus Heaney. Copyright 1991 by Seamus Heaney Gallery Press for permission to reprint the following poem by Sean Dunne: 'Sydney Place' (extracts) from Tlie Sheltered Nest (1992); tor permission to reprint the following poems by Eamon Grennan: ' T o t e m ' and 'Four Deer' from Wliat Light There Is (1987); 'Breaking Points' from As If It Matters (1991); for permission to reprint the following poems by Michael Hartnett: 'Bread', 'I have exhausted the delighted range . . .', 'For My Grandmother, Bridget Halpin', 'A Farewell to English' (extract), 'Lament for Tadgh Cronin's Children' and 'The Man w h o Wrote Yeats, the Man w h o Wrote Mozart' from Selected and New Poems (1994); 'Sneachta Gealai '77' and 'Moonsnow '77' from A Necklace of Wrens (1987); for permission to reprint the following poems by Pearse Hutchinson: 'Malaga' and 'Gaeltacht' from Selected Poems (1982); 'Sometimes Feel' from Watching the Morning Grow (1972); for permission to reprint the following poems by Medbh McGuckian: 'The Seed-picture', 'Gateposts' and ' T h e Flower Master' from 77;c Flower Master and Other Poems (1993); 'The Sitting' from Venus and the Rain ( 1 9 8 4 , 1994 revised edition); 'Marconi's Cottage' from Marconi's Cottage (1991); 'Porcelain Bells' (extract) from Captain Lavender (1994); for permission to reprint the following poems by Ciaran Carson: 'Dresden' and 'Cocktails' from 77;c Irish for No (1987); ' T h e M o u t h ' and 'Hamlet' from Belfast Confetti ( 1 9 8 9 ) ; 'Ovid: Metamorphoses, V, 5 2 9 - 5 5 0 ' and 'Bagpipe Music' from First Language (1993); for permission to reprint tlie following poems by Paula Meehan: ' T h e Pattern' and 'Child Burial' from The Man Wlw Was Marked by Winter (1991); 'Laburnum' from Pillow Talk (1994); for permission to reprint the following poems byjohn Montague: 'Like Dolmens Round My Childhood, the Old People', 'The Trout', 'A Chosen Light' (extract), ' T h e Same Gesture', 'Last Journey', 'Dowager' and 'Herbert Street Revisited' from New Selected Poems ( 1 9 8 9 ) ; 'Small Secrets' from Collected Poems (1995); for permission to reprint the following poems by Eilan Ni Chuilleanin: ' T h e Second Voyage' and 'Deaths and Engines' from Tlie Second Voyage (1977, 1986); 'The Informant' from The Magdalene Sermon (1990); 'The Real Thing' and 'Saint Margaret of Cortona' from 77/c Brazen Serpent ( 1 9 9 4 ) ; for permission to reprint the following poems by Nuala N Dhomhnaill: 'Far Suaithinseach' (translated by Seamus Heaney), 'An Bhbg Bhriste' (translated by John Montague), 'An Bhean Mhdhlis' (translated by Paul Muldoon) and 'Ccist na Teangan' (translated by Paul Muldoon) from Pharoah's Daughter (1990); 'Caitlin' (translated by Paul Muldoon) from The Astrakhan Cloak (l W2); for permission to reprint the following poems by Frank Ornisby: 'Passing ( he ( i e m . i i o i m m ' from I St()ic oj (:,nidles (I >77, 1986); 'I lome' from I Northern Spring (P'H(>); Im permission to reprint the following poems by
(
(

W.R. Rodgers: 'Lent', 'The N e t ' and 'Stormy Night' from Poems (1993) and 'Snow'; for permission to reprint the following poems by James Simmons: ' O n e of the Boys', 'West Strand Visions' and 'From the Irish' from Poems 1956-1986 (1986); for permission to reprint the following poem by Peter Sirr: 'A Few Helpful Hints' from Ways of Falling (1991) Grove/Atlantic, Inc., for permission to reprint the following poems by Samuel Beckett: 'Cascando', 'my way is in the sand flowing', 'what would I do without this world faceless incurious' and 'Roundelay' from Collected Poems in English and French (1977); 'Words and Music' (extract) from Collected Shorter Plays (1984) Seamus Heaney for permission to reprint the following poem: 'Keeping Going' Sheila Iremonger for permission to reprint the following poems by Valentin Iremonger: 'This Houre Her Vigill', 'Clear View in Summer' and 'Icarus' from Sandymoimt, Dublin (1988) Biddy Jenkinson for permission to reprint the following poem: 'Citheadh' T h e trustees of the estate of Patrick Kavanagh, c/o Peter Fallon, Literary Agent, Loughcrew, Oldcastle, County Meath, Ireland, for kind permission to reprint the following poems: ' T o the Man After the Harrow', 'Stony Grey Soil', 'The Great Hunger' (extracts), ' T h e Twelfth ofjuly', 'Tarry Flynn', 'A Christmas Childhood', 'Father Mat', 'Elegy for Jim Larkin', 'Epic', 'Innocence', 'Kerr's Ass' and 'The Hospital' Thomas Kinsella for permission to reprint the following poems: 'Chrysalides' from Selected Poems 1956-1968 (1973); 'Notes from the Land of the Dead' (extracts) from New Poems 1973 (1973); ' O n e ' (extracts) and 'Anniversaries' (extract) from One and Other Poems (1979); 'The Messenger' (extract) and ' O u t of Ireland' (extract) from Blood and Family (1988); ' O n e Fond Embrace' (extract) from One Fond Embrace: Peppercanistcr 13 (1988) Michael Longley for permission to reprint the following poems: 'Phemios and Medon' and 'River & Fountain' Thomas McCarthy for permission to reprint the following poem: 'State Funeral' from Tlie First Convention (1978) Peter McDonald for permission to reprint the following poem: 'Peacetime' T h e estate of Thomas MacGreevy for permission to reprint the following poems: 'Homage to Hieronymous Bosch' and 'Recessional' from Collected Poems (1991) John Montague for permission to reprint the following poems: 'A Drink of Milk', 'Family Conference' and ' T h e Cave of Night' (extract) from Selected Poems (1982) Richard Murphy for permission to reprint the following poems: 'Sailing to an Island' and 'The Poet on the Island' from Sailing to an Island (1963); 'The Battle of Aughrim' (extract) from Tlie Battle of Aughrim (1968); 'Seals at High Island' and 'Stormpetrel' from High Island (1974); 'Morning Call' and 'The Price of Stone' (extracts) from Tlie Price of Stone (1985) N e w Island Books for permission to reprint the following translation by

Michael Hartnctt: 'Annunciations' from Nuala Ni Dhonihnaill, Selected Poems: Rogha Dnta (1988) Nuala Ni Dhonihnaill for permission to reprint the following poems: 'Scala' (translated by Michael Hartnett) and 'Filte Bhal na Sionna don lasc' (translated by Patrick Crotty) from An Dealg Droighin (1981) W . W . Norton and Company, Inc., for permission to reprint the following poems by Eavan Boland: 'Listen. This Is the Noise of Myth' and 'Fond Memory' reprinted from Outside History: Selected Poems 1980-1990 by Eavan Boland with the permission of W . W . Norton and Company Inc. Copyright 1990 by Eavan Boland; 'The Black Lace Fan My Mother Gave Me', 'The Latin Lesson', 'Midnight Flowers' and 'Anna Liffey' reprinted from /;/ a Time of Violcnceby Eavan Boland with the permission of W . W . Norton and Company, Inc. Copyright 1994 by Eavan Boland Frank Ormsby tor permission to reprint the following poem: 'A Paris H o n e y m o o n ' (extract) Alex Osborne for permission to reprint the following translation: 'Spray' Oxford University Press for permission to reprint the following poems by Derek Mahon: 'A Dying Art', 'Ecclesiastes', 'An Image from Beckett', 'Lives', 'The Snow Party', 'A Refusal to M o u r n ' and 'A Disused Shed in C o . Wexford" from Poems 1962-1978 (1979), Derek Mahon 1979; 'Courtyards in Delft', 'Rathlin' and Tractatus' from The Hunt by Night (1982). Derek Mahon 1982 Peters, Fraser and Dunlop for permission to reprint the following poems by Michael Longley: 'In Memoriam', 'Caravan', 'Wounds', 'Ghost T o w n ' , 'Man Lying on a Wall', 'Wreaths', 'Mayo Monologues (extract) and 'The Linen Industry' from Poems 1963-1983 (1991) Sairsal * O Marcaigh Tta for permission to reprint the following poems by Mire Mhac an tSaoi: 'Caoineadh' and 'Ceathrint Mhire N O g i n ' from An Cion Go Dti Seo (1987); for permission to reprint the following poems by Sen Rordin: 'Adhlacadh Mo Mhthar', 'Malairt', 'Cnoc Mellen" and 'Siollabadh' from Eireaball Spideoige (1952); 'Claustrophobia', 'Reo' and 'Fiabhras' from Brosna (1964); all poems translated by Patrick Crotty Martin Seeker and Warburg for permission to reprint the following poems by Michael Longley: 'In Memoriam', 'Caravan', 'Wounds', 'Ghost T o w n ' , 'Man Lying on a Wall', 'Wreaths', 'Mayo Monologues' (extract) and ' T h e Linen Industry' from Poems 1963-1983 (1991); 'Between Hovers', 'Laertes', 'Argos' and 'The Butchers' from Gorse Fires (1991); for permission to reprint the following poems by Matthew Sweeney: ' T o the Building Trade' and ' T u b e Ride to Martha's' from Blue Shoes (1989) Wake Forest University Press for permission to reprint the following poems by Ciaran Carson: 'Dresden' and 'Cocktails' from The Irish for No (1987); 'The M o u t h ' and 'Hamlet' from Belfast Confetti (1989); 'Ovid: Metamorphoses, V, 529 550' and 'Bagpipe M u s i c ' from First Language (1993); for permission to reprint the following poems l>\ M i < had I ongley 'Between I lovers', '1 aeries', 'Argos' anil 'The liutthers' from Gorse hires (1991); foi pei mission to reprint

the following poems by Medbh McGuckian: 'Marconi's Cottage' from Marconi's Cottage (1991); 'Porcelain Bells' (extract) from Captain Lavender (1994); for permission to reprint the following poems b y j o h n Montague: 'Like Dolmens Round My Childhood, the Old People', ' T h e Trout', 'A Chosen Light' (extract), 'The Same Gesture', 'LastJourney', 'Small Secrets', 'Dowager' and 'Herbert Street Revisited' from Selected Poems (1982); for permission to reprint the following poems by Paul Muldoon: 'Lunch with Pancho Villa' from Mules and Early Poems (1985); 'Cuba' and 'Anseo' from Wlxy Brownlcc Left (1981); 'Gathering Mushrooms' and 'The More a Man Has the More a Man Wants' from Qi<oo/~(1983); 'Something Else' from Meeting the British (1987); for permission to reprint the following poems by Eilan Ni Chuilleanin: 'The Second Voyage', and 'Deaths and Engines' from The Second Voyage (1977, 1986); 'The Informant' from 77/c Magdalene Sermon (1990); ' T h e Real Thing' and 'Saint Margaret of Cortona' from The Brazen Serpent (1994); for permission to reprint the following poems by Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill: 'Far Suaithinseach' (translated by Seamus Heaney), 'An Bhbg Bhriste (translated by John Montague), 'An Bhean Mhdhlis' (translated by Paul Muldoon) and 'Ceist na Teangan' (translated by Paul Muldoon) from Pharoah's Daughter (1990); 'Caitlin' (translated by Paul Muldoon) from 77/c Astrakhan Cloak (1992) T h e publishers have made every effort to trace and acknowledge copyright holders. We apologise for any omissions in the above list and we will welcome additions or amendments to it for inclusion in any reprint edition.

I.'H

INDEX OF POETS AND TRANSLATORS

ALLEN, F e r g u s BOLAND, Eavan CARSON, C i a r a n CLARKE, A u s t i n COFFEY, Brian

134-6 62-5 272-85 308-20 13-30 59-61

MCDONALD, Peter MCGUCK1AN, M e d b h MACNEICE, Louis MAHON, Derek MEEHAN, Paula

416-20 9 12 330-6

BECKETT, S a m u e l

MACGREEVY, T h o m a s

76-94 253-65 398-403 137-45

C R O T T Y , P a t r i c k 109 trans., 111 trans., 115 trans., 117 trans., 119 tram., 125 trans., 127 trans., 139 trans., 373 trans., 409 trans. DEVLIN, D e n i s DUH1G, Ian D U N N E , Scan D U R C A N , Paul FALLON, Padraic GRENNAN, E a m o n HEANEY, S e a m u s 409 trans., 413 trans. HEWITT, J o h n 66-75 146-8 130-3 31-49 194-6 159-77 220-34 390-4 H U T C H I N S O N , Pearse IREMONGER, V a l e n t i n JENKINSON, B i d d y KAVANAGH, Patrick KENNELLY, B r e n d a n K1NSELLA, T h o m a s LONGLEY, M i c h a e l MCCARTHY, T h o m a s 95-100 404-6 286-303 50-8 248-52 197-219, 367 trans., 395-7

MHAC AN TSAOI, M i r e MOONEY, Martin 421-2

M O N T A G U E , J o h n 178-90,371 trans. M U L D O O N , Paul 337-63, 373 trans., 377 trans., 379 trans. MURPHY, R i c h a r d 149-58 266-71 365-81 N CHUILLEANIN, Eilan N i DHOMHNAILL, N u a l a DIREIN, M i r t n RORDIN, Sen SEARCAIGH, C a t h a l O'DONOGHUE, Bernard ORMSBY, F r a n k PAULIN, T o m RODGERS, W.R. SIMMONS, J a m e s SIRR, P e t e r 414-15 382-3 306-7 321-5 384-9 191-3 101-6 O S B O R N E , A l e x 329 trans. RIORDAN, M a u r i c e 113-29 407-13 304-5 107-11

HARTNETT, M i c h a e l 235-47, 367 trans.

327-9

SWEENEY, M a t t h e w

I N D E X OF TITLES

A Bit of Brass

57 182 40 261

Casualty

205 379 138 362 376

A C h o s e n Light (extract) A Christmas C h i l d h o o d A D r i n k of M i l k A D y i n g Art 253 181

C a t h l e e n (trans.) Cauliflowers

A Disused Shed in C o . W e x f o r d

Ceathrint Mhire N gin Ceist na Teangan Celibacy 17 401 160 198 131 125 124 118 263 194 108 59

A F a r e w e l l to English (extract) A F e w Helpful Hints A Flask of B r a n d y A Local P o e t 74 304 50 414

237

C h i l d Burial Chrysalides Churning Day

A H a n d of S n a p s h o t s (extract) A N u n T a k e s t h e Veil A Refusal to M o u r n A W o r d from the Loki A Written Answer An Bhbg Bhnste An Bhean Mhdhlis 324 114 370 372 254 73 Adhlacadh Mo Mhthar

91

Clear View in S u m m e r Claustrophobia C l a u s t r o p h o b i a (trans.)

A Paris H o n e y m o o n (extract) 259 409 387 A R u n a w a y C o w (trans.)

307

C n o c Melleri Cocktails 313

C o u r t y a r d s i n Delft C r a n n a Foirtil Cuba 339 110 C r o m w e l l (extracts)

C u i m h n e an Domhnaigh D e a t h o f H e k t o r (extract) Deaths and Engines Deireadh R 421 Desertmartin Dowager 187 308 Dresden 108 322 267

An Image from Beckett An Irishman in C o v e n t r y A n k ' h o r Vat A n n a LifFey 95 279

Anna Akhmatova's Funeral A n n i v e r s a r i e s (extract) A n n u n c i a t i o n s (trans.) Anseo Bacon 340 295 83 172 367

Early U n f i n i s h e d S k e t c h Ecclesiastcs 254 134 46 109 E l e g y for Faustina E l e g y for J i m L a r k i n 78 88 Epic 47 Era's E n d (trans.)

21

A r o u n d t h e C o r n e r from Francis Autobiography

A u t u m n J o u r n a l (extract) A u t u m n S e q u e l (extract) Badgers 208 317 228 408 250

Filte B h a l na S i o n n a d o n Iasc Family C o n f e r e n c e Father Mat F e v e r (trans.) Fiabhras 126 275 Fond Memory Halpin 138 412 (extracts) Four Deer 237 60 249 66 42 366 127 Far S u a i t h i n s e a c h 183

372

Bagpipe Music Between Hovers Bo Bhradach Bread Broagh Citheadh Caitln 378 236 199 328 Breaking Points

For My G r a n d m o t h e r , Bridget F o r W h a t for W h o m U n w a n t e d

C a o i n e a d h ( M h a c a n tSaoi) C a o i n e a d h ( O Searcaigh) Caravan Cascando 222 62

F r e e h o l d (extract)

F r o m t h e C a n t o n of E x p e c t a t i o n

.'I \

From the Frontier of Writing F r o m t h e Irish F u n e r a l Rites Gaeltacht Gateposts Ghost T o w n Hamlet 314 188 147 331 341 224 193 127 202 F r o z e n Stiff (trans.)

212

Midnight Flowers Milk 384

278 367 391 247

M i r a c u l o u s Grass (trans.) Mr Nabokov's Memory M o o n s n o w ' 7 7 (trans.) M o r n i n g Call (extract) 201 156

Mossbawn: T w o Poems in Dedication M o u n t M e l l e r a y (trans.) M y M o t h e r ' s Burial (trans.) m y w a y i s i n t h e sand f l o w i n g 9 Na Piopa Crafige (extracts) 160 323 174 408 119 115 63

Gathering Mushrooms

H e r b e r t Street Revisited Home 306 229 92

H o m a g e to H i e r o n y m u s Bosch Homeric Poems H o u s e on a Cliff

N o t e s from t h e L a n d o f t h e D e a d

O f f t h e Back of a Lorry I have exhausted the delighted range . . . Icarus 132 220 395 Passing t h e C r e m a t o r i u m Keeping Going K e r r ' s Ass 48 51 Kiltartan L e g e n d Laburnum 402 139 413 238 Rathlin 264 11 396 Recessional 217 Peacetime P e n a l Law 419 21 392 48 In M c m o r i a m Innocence 236 O n e (extracts) O n e of the Boys 167 191

O n e F o n d E m b r a c e (extract) O u t o f Ireland (extract) 174

O v i d : Metamorphoses, V, 5 2 9 - 5 5 0 306

317

I'r H e n Iaith A'i C h a n e u o n

P e r s e p h o n e , 1978 P o t Burial 321

P o r c e l a i n Bells (extract) L a m e n t ( M h a c an tSaoi, trans.) L a m e n t ( O S e a r c a i g h , trans.) Last J o u r n e y Lent 103 216 184

334

L a m e n t for T a d h g C r o n i n ' s C h i l d r e n

R e f o r n i a Agraria Reo 126

Renewal by her Element River & Fountain Roundelay 272 Sailing to an Island St C h r i s t o p h e r 338 Scala 366 154 124 297 185 246 78 101 361 148 >.">
')|

99

L i g h t e n i n g s (extracts) Old People Little Elegy Lives 256 179 96

Like D o l m e n s R o u n d M y C h i l d h o o d , t h e Listen. T h i s I s t h e N o i s e o f M y t h

231

65 150 270

21

L u n c h w i t h P a n c h o Villa Malaga Malairt 146 116 225 333

Saint M a r g a r e t o f C o r t o n a Seals at H i g h Island Siollabadh (extract) Small Secrets

M a n L y i n g on a W a l l Marconi's Cottage Martha Blake 18

Six N u n s D i e i n C o n v e n t I n f e r n o

Martha Blake at Fifty-One Mayfly 77

22 139

Sneachta Gealai '77 Snow (MacNeice) S n o w (Rodgers) S o a p Suds 02

M a r y H o g a n ' s Q u a t r a i n s (trans.) M a y o M o n o l o g u e s (extract) M e e t i n g Point (extract) OK 82 227

S o m e t h i n g Else S o m e t i m e s Feel Spray (trans.)

Si II ,..,/i

M e m o i r s ol a T u r c o m a n Diplom.it M e m o r y ol Sunday (trans)

Ml

State F u n e r a l S t o n y G r e y Soil Stornipetrel Stormy Night

390 32 105 111 73 416 211 155

T h e Pattern

398 16 152 156

T h e Planter's D a u g h t e r T h e P o e t o n t h e Island T h e Ram's H o r n T h e Real T h i n g T h e Same Gesture T h e Second Voyage T h e Seed-picture 404 (trans.) T h e Sitting 373 332 258 68 269 183

T h e Price o f S t o n e (extracts)

S t r o n g B e a m s (trans.) Substance and S h a d o w Sunday in Great T e w S w i t c h (trans.) Syllabling (trans.) Tarry Flynn T h e Birthplace Me 276 39 117 125

S w e e n e y R c d i v i v u s (extract) S y d n e y Place (extracts)

266 330

T h e S h a n n o n E s t u a r y W e l c o m e s t h e Fish

T h e S n o w Party 153 210

T h e Battle o f A u g h r i m (extract)

T h e Standing Trains T h e Straying Student T h e Suicide The Trout 93 T h e Tollund Man

393 20 199

T h e Black Lace Fan M y M o t h e r G a v e T h e B r o k e n D o l l (trans.) T h e C a v e o f N i g h t (extract) T h e C l a y Pipes (trans.) The Colony T h e Fall 135 332 33 209 286 290 69 409 371 188

180 373

T h e Twelfth of July 39 T h e Unfaithful W i f e (trans.) T h e Weakness (extract) 14 130 55 305 T h e Y o u n g W o m a n o f Beare T h i s H o u r e H e r Vigill T h r e e H o u s e s (extract) Time Out 385 27 382 31 Tiresias (extract)

T h e Flower Master T h e Harvest B o w T h e Hat Factory

T h e G r e a t H u n g e r (extracts)

T h e H a u l i e r ' s W i f e M e e t s Jesus o n t h e Road Near M o o n e T h e Hospital T h e Informant 49 268 377

To the Building Trade Totem Tractatus 248 265

T o t h e M a n After t h e H a r r o w

T h e L a n g u a g e Issue (trans.) T h e Late M r C h a r l e s L y n c h Digresses 301 277 T h e Latin Lesson Gibeah 301 84 227 324 13 239

T u b e Ride to Martha's Priest's P a r l o u r W e s t S t r a n d Visions W e s t e r n Landscape faceless i n c u r i o u s 289

383

T u l l y n o e : T t e - a - T t e i n t h e Parish

T h e Levite and His C o n c u b i n e at 192 85 64 215 322 64 T h e Libertine

T h e Linen Industry T h e Lonely T o w e r T h e Lost H e i f e r Wrote Mozart

w h a t w o u l d 1 d o w i t h o u t this w o r l d Wheels within Wheels W h e r e Art Is a M i d w i f e W o r d s and M u s i c (extract) 173 Wounds Wreaths 223 225 52

T h e M a n w h o W r o t e Yeats, t h e M a n w h o T h e M e s s e n g e r (extract) Wants The Net 343 313 104

T h e M o r e a M a n Has the M o r e a M a n The Mouth

Yeats a t A t h e n r y P e r h a p s

12

I N D E X O F FIRST LINES

A b h b i g n bhristc ins an t o b a r once 217

370

At n o o n , in t h e d e a d c e n t r e of a faith 73 322

A b o a t that d i d n o t r o c k or w o b b l e A full year since, 1 t o o k this e a g e r city A h o r n h u n g on an o a k A light is b u r n i n g late short 264 331 406 57 188

B a r o m e t e r of my m o o d s today, mayfly 77 147 258 18 383 B a r t l e y C o s t e l l o , e i g h t y years old Basho, c o m i n g B e f o r e t h e day is e v e r y w h e r e B e f o r e t h e s p e c t a c l e d professor snipped 158 124 313 B h i banaltra in o t h a r l a n n

A l o n g t i m e since t h e last s c r e a m c u t A m a n will k e e p a h o r s e for prestige A m o o n y o u c o u l d h a n g a coat on A nurse was in a hospital A p o e t by t h e fireside cries A rickety c h i m n e y suggests rough-cast light 9 49 323 138 301 198 125 406 222

B e f o r e t h e sirens started, h e was late

B o m b i n g at about ninety miles an h o u r with the exhaust skittering view find 157 21 Built for a c o t t o n k i n g , w h o l o v e d t h e B u r n O v i d w i t h t h e rest. L o v e r s will

A thick crust, c o a r s e - g r a i n e d as l i m e s t o n e A w o m a n w i t h n o face w a l k e d i n t o t h e A year ago I fell in l o v e w i t h t h e functional w a r d A z i p p o lighter

C h a o i n m n a cuileatacha a r u c h t m o mhthara 412 21 C h i l d that his s t r e n g t h u p b o r e C h i m grian a n D o m h n a i g h a g taitneamh 108 226 33 110 Christ's teeth ascended with him into heaven 64 289 C l a y is t h e w o r d a n d clay is t h e flesh C o i n n i g h do thalamh a anam liom t h e sadness 117 61 376

A c h a n i b e a d gafa as an lion seo After Haul D u r c a n left his wife deeds 153 156

After t h e n o o s e , a n d t h e black diaryAfter y o u b r o u g h t h e r h o m e w i t h y o u r first child A g e is w h e n to a m a n

' A h , h e was a g r a n d m a n . ' set 248 91 228 93

All S o u l s ' o v e r , t h e roast seeds e a t e n , I A n d h e r e t h e cross o n t h e w i n d o w m e a n s myself badger A n d n o t e v e n w h e n w e ran o v e r t h e

' C o m e h e r e , ' said T u r n b u l l , 'till y o u see C o n s i d e r his s o n g

Cuirim mo dhchas ar snmh

D m b a m i s e a n barruisce g h a b h f a i n n c h u g a m do bharraicn Do chuimhnigh s D o p h i o c s suas m 366 372 22 277 324 286 130 405 328 408 D ' i r i g h s d t h u i r s e a c h darfainn 60

A n d this, ladies a n d g e n t l e m e n , w h o m 1 am n o t in fact A n d w h e r e n o s n o w h a d fallen A r o u n d t h e c o r n e r f r o m Francis Bacon 295 As, e v e n t o - d a y , t h e a i r m a n , feeling t h e plane sweat 132 127 As I w e n t o u t o n e frosty m o r n i n g g o o d l e w m i n u t e s last 314 209 W t

Early, each m o r n i n g , M a r t h a Blake Easter light i n t h e c o n v e n t g a r d e n Hither i n c o g n i t o a n d d e s p e r a t e E l i z a b e t h , frigidly s t r e t c h e d Enough 174 E l e v e n o ' c l o c k a n d t h e bar i s e m p t y Endless infusions, silver strainers E v e n n o w tlicii' .IIC pl.H is w l i e i e ,i

As usual, t h e c l o c k in T h e C l o c k Bar was a A s y o u plaited t h e harvest b o w At lout in t h e m o r n i n g lie w a k e s Ai night, s o m e t i m e s , w h e n I c a n n o t sleep IH.

thought might grow

'<!

E v e n i n g s e v e r m o r e w i l l i n g lapse i n t o m y world's evening 98

I a m w a l k i n g b a c k w a r d s i n t o t h e future like a G r e e k sore 413 168 187 278 236 47 231 I c r i e d o n m y m o t h e r ' s breast, cried

Faustina, i f that w a s y o u r n a m e , y o u are dead

:

134 172 108

I d r a n k firmly

Fifteen m i n u t e s o r t h e r e a b o u t s Fir na sce al mo lean colonists First t i m e o u t 69 256 180 First c a m e t h e l e g i o n s , t h e n t h e

I d w e l l in this leaky W e s t e r n castle I g o d o w n step b y step I h a d no gift for it 55

I have exhausted the delighted range I h a v e lived in i m p o r t a n t places, t i m e s I h a v e l o c a t e d it, m y g h o s t t o w n m e n disappoint me 68 224 I h a v e t u r n e d to t h e landscape b e c a u s e 1 heard n e w w o r d s prayed at cows I live i n t h e t o w n o f C a h i r I place m y h o p e o n t h e w a t e r I see t h e S u n d a y sun b e a t i n g I s h o u l d e r e d a k i n d of m a n h o o d flowers 227 163 164 290 377 109 202

Flat on t h e b a n k I p a r t e d images else me train 94 249 393 391

F o r m y f i r s t p o e m t h e r e are specific F o r t y - t w o years a g o (to m e i f t o n o o n e F o u r d e e r lift u p t h e i r lovely h e a d s t o F r o m the w i n d o w s of a standing

211

1 wanted to teach h i m the names of I was g o i n g up to say s o m e t h i n g I w a s sent in to see h e r 155 138 I'd say h e ' d h a d t o o m u c h If I o n c e g o t free of this n e t o v e r w h e l m y o u r insteps In a m e a d o w 42 124 239 In aice an fhiona I will w a l k w i t h a l o v e r of w i s d o m 409 139 329

' G a i b h i l e i t h , ' arsa T u r n b u l l , ' g o b h f e i c e t an b r n G i p s y of t h e sea 116

96

G l r goil ar an n g a o i t h fearing, G o d 254

G o d , y o u c o u l d g r o w t o l o v e it, G o d G r i a n an M h e i t h i m h in u l l g h o r t 114

If I w e r e t h e s p r e a d i n g t i d e sheets I w o u l d

H a l f - w a y d o w n y o u lose t h e sense o f falling window 419 301 H a v i n g sat all m o r n i n g at t h e bay H e c a m e lilting d o w n t h e brae w i t h a b l a c k t h o r n stick t h e t h i c k of a shotgun 317 74 321 259 226 373 H e f o l l o w e d t h e i r lilting stanzas H e has m a r r i e d again. H i s wife He lived in a small f a r m - h o u s e H e ran a g o o d s h o p , a n d h e d i e d H e started c o m i n g o n t o m e breakfast 225 205 H e w a s p r e p a r i n g a n U l s t e r fry for He w o u l d drink by himself again West 131 237 236

In crisp italic, m e t i c u l o u s a n d signed country In 1 9 3 6 85 83 194 396 254

I n d o g g e r e l a n d s t o u t let m e h o n o u r this I n m y c h i l d h o o d trees w e r e g r e e n I n o u r v e r y o w n little civil w a r In that instant listening 11 181

In t h e b r i g h t b r o a d Swiss glare I stand In t h e g i r d e r e d d a r k stockings 84 322

I n t h e old days w i t h m a r r i e d w o m e n ' s In the third decade of M a r c h Outdoors 92 338 105 173 421

I n d o o r s t h e t a n g of a tiny oil l a m p . 'Is it really a r e v o l u t i o n , t h o u g h ? ' Is this t h e street? N e v e r a sign of life It is an A u g u s t e v e n i n g , in W i c k l o w It j a n g l e s in a m i l d b r e e z e 404 It l o o k s to me like a h e r o ' s w e l c o m e darned worsted 275 276 305

H e a v y w i t h leaves t h e g a r d e n b u s h e s H e r eyes w e r e c o i n s o f p o r t e r a n d h e r H e r i r o n beats head Homer 223 382 where born where buried of 59 MM

H e r e are t w o p i c t u r e s from m y father's H e r e ' s to the building trade w h o m the son

It was a s c h o o l w h e r e all t h e c h i l d r e n w o r e It was t h e first gift he e v e r g a v e h e r It was the frosty early h o u r s w h e n finally It's t i m e to get back to t h e < .n half-past t h r e e 416

H o r s e B o y l e w a s called H o r s e B o y l e b e c a u s e of his b r o t h e r M u l e

Already, al

J i m e e n C o n n o r , the butcher, is c o m i n g round 195 115 J u n e sun i n a n o r c h a r d Lim an bhradin leaking people moon 148 179 332 279 398 372

O n c e i n a seaside t o w n w i t h t i m e t o kill O n c e , i n t h e G i a n t ' s R i n g , I closed m y eyes frost 306 40 160 191

66

O n e side o f t h e p o t a t o - p i t s w a s w h i t e w i t h Like an old, w r e c k e d s p o n g e - d i v e r Like d o l m e n s r o u n d m y c h i l d h o o d , t h e o l d Like f o x g l o v e s i n t h e s c h o o l o f t h e grass Life, t h e s t o r y g o e s Look 167 O u r last free s u m m e r w e m o o n e d a b o u t a t odd hours O u r y o u t h w a s gay b u t r o u g h snow 101 51 317

O u t o f t h e g r e y air g r e w s n o w a n d m o r e

P e n e l o p e pulls h o m e

Little has c o m e d o w n t o m e o f hers

P e r s e p h o n e ate s e v e n p o m e g r a n a t e seeds. S o w h a t ? I'll tell y o u w h a t Poor Paddy Maguire, a fourteen-hour

M a i d i n sheaca g h a b h a s a m a c h M a y b e m o r n i n g lightens over M c fin faoin aer san o i c h e h e a d r i g t o light blows morning 193 339 362

126 103 237 246

day fallen

36 227 104

M a r y M a g d a l e n e , t h a t easy w o m a n

P u l l i n g u p flax after t h e b l u e f l o w e r s h a v e

M o r e often t h a n n o t h e stops a t t h e M o s t terrible was o u r h e r o in battle M y eldest sister a r r i v e d h o m e t h a t

Q u i c k , w o m a n , in your net Riverbank, the long

;

rigs

199 21

R o s a l i n d , in a ngligc e

S e a m u s o f t h e S m a r t Suit, b o x p l a y e r , 220 109 made voice 174 270 367 333 She had become, t h e p r e a c h e r h o l l o w s his She r e m e m b e r e d to the very e n d Small a n d w a t c h f u l as a l i g h t h o u s e S o m e d a y I will g o t o A a r h u s 63 247 smoke arir 408 378 306 118 111 199 S o m e o n e is l e a v i n g t o w n as clean S r a n n t a r n a c h na s t o i r m e i M e l l e r i

M y father, let n o similes eclipse M y g n e f o n t h e m e n o f t h e stories M y half-sister c o m e s t o m e t o b e painted railings 332 404 M y son s w i n g s f r o m t h e black m y w a y i s i n t h e sand f l o w i n g Myself outside at night N e x t to the wine 125

N i chasfaidh tusa t h a r t d o c h l o i g c a n n Ni fhadf i a t h a b h a i r t in a o n it leat N i g h t m a r e leaves fatigue greatness 46 31 366 78 N o t w i t h p u b l i c w o r d s can his N o w leave t h e c h e c k - r e i n s slack N u a i r a bhs i do shagart naofa

S t a n d y o u r g r o u n d , soul poet 231 27

Still l o o k i n g for a s c o o t - h o l e , P h e m i o s t h e ' S t r o l l i n g o n e day, b e y o n d t h e K a l e n d s , o n M o u n t Cyllcne

T a slcnbhte n a leapa m s ard 371

126 414 390

T e l l t h e m w h a t y o u like. T e l l t h e m O little b r o k e n doll, d r o p p e d in t h e well O s t o n y g r e y soil of M o n a g h a n Oblique tile light 263 266 17 on the 32 T h a t A u g u s t a f t e r n o o n t h e family T h a t day t h e sails o f t h e ship w e r e torn 238 253 ' T h a t d a y w o u l d skin a fairy

trite, on b n c k and

O d y s s e u s rested o n his o a r a n d saw ( )n a b r o w n isle ol l o u g h C o m b southward ( )n .1 wet 20 night, laden with

That m o r n i n g early I ran t h r o u g h briars The annals say: w h e n t h e m o n k s o f Clonmacnoise 216 95 The a n t l e r e d forests

304

( )n a h o l y day w h e n sails w e r e b l o w i n g bunks lot

I h e Hunk < > ( Exits, l l l l l . K l l l o u s l y

higg-ir.'
on .ill ih.ii ( >n .in

152
strand ft5 ' " i> 1111 > < i m o r n i n g I''

copied

269

I In b o o m a b o v e my kne< lifts, and t h e b o it 150

apple ripe

T h e c a l a m i t y o f seals b e g i n s w i t h j a w s plain 210

154

T h i s is the story of a m a n and w o m a n T h i s n o t e b o o k i n w h i c h h e used t o sketch 384 This poem by Rupert Brookeborough T h r o u g h lane o r black a r c h w a y 14 T i m e w a s a w a y a n d s o m e w h e r e else

272

T h e deal table w h e r e h e w r o t e , s o small a n d T h e first real grip I e v e r g o t on t h i n g s T h e G a r d e n o f E d e n (described i n t h e Bible) 135 99 The hawthorn morning moving T h e late M a r c h mist is an a n g r y Cerberus 392 387 T h e L o k i t o n g u e d o e s n o t l e n d itself T h e m a n alone at the third floor window 192 127 160 405 217 405 T h e m o u n t a i n s o f t h e b e d are h i g h T h e n o o n heat i n t h e yard T h e pianist's funeral passes T h e p o e t i s w o r k i n g upstairs 215

324 82

T o Wales o n c e m o r e , t h o u g h not o n holiday now 88 268

Underneath the photograph to my house 156

Up from t h e trawlers in t h e fishdock t h e y walk

W e b o r r o w e d t h e loan o f K e r r ' s b i g ass W e came d o w n above the houses W e h a d o u r t o w e r s t o o , a large pond moods 307 213 36 297 184 52 267

48

T h e passport p h o t o b o o t h f l a s h e s 4 0 5 T h e p i p e r c o m i n g from far a w a y is y o u

W e h a v e f l o a t e d t o t h e surface o f M o n e t ' s W e lived d e e p i n a land o f o p t a t i v e W e m a y c o m e o u t i n t o t h e O c t o b e r reality,

T h e public servant of m e n ' s private parts 157 T h e rain c o m e s f l a p p i n g t h r o u g h t h e yard 341 188 T h e rifled honeycomb w i n d o w was 78 373

Imagination o f D u b l i n city

T h e r o o m was suddenly r i c h and t h e great b a y T h e s a l m o n ' s leap night beach 146 406

We resided in a L o r e t o c o n v e n t in the centre W e stand t o g e t h e r

T h e scent of unseen jasmine on the w a r m T h e school is g o n e from Belgrave Place night 119 139

W h a t must they have g r o w n to n o w incurious 64 229 230

404

w h a t w o u l d I d o w i t h o u t this w o r l d faceless W h e n h e f o u n d Laertes a l o n e o n t h e tidy terrace, h o e i n g W h e n h e h a d m a d e sure t h e r e w e r e n o survivors in his h o u s e holiday 395 16 208 W h e n I g o d o w n t o W a l e s for t h e l o n g b a n k

T h e s n o r i n g o f t h e s t o r m i n M e l l e r a y last T h e s o u n d o f tears o n t h e w i n d space 212 39 385 265 73

T h e t i g h t n e s s a n d t h e nilness r o u n d t h a t T h e Twelfth of July, the voice of Ulster speaking T h e t w o y o u n g o n e s fed, b a t h e d , z i p p e r e d , read to and sung to. Asleep ' T h e w o r l d is e v e r t h i n g that is t h e case' T h e r e is a bareness in t h e i m a g e s T h e r e is a secret r o o m 183 201 T h e r e w a s a sunlit a b s e n c e s h o o t i n g off them 229 313

W h e n n i g h t stirred at sea

W h e n the badger glimmered away grazing 13

W h e n t h e black h e r d s o f t h e rain w e r e W h e n t h e M a s t e r w a s calling t h e roll W h e n t h e wall b e t w e e n h e r a n d g h o s t W h e n y o u r l o b s t e r was lifted o u t o f t h e tank 361 185 62 Where I work 340 183

T h e r e w a s this h e a d h a d this m o u t h h e k e p t T h e r e w e r e o t h e r separations, a n d s o m a n y o f T h e r e you were in your purple vestments 367 48

w h y not merely the despaired of

Y o u c a n ' t t a k e h e r o u t for a n i g h t o n t h e town heels 379 225 50 402 Y o u c o u l d d r a w a straight line f r o m t h e Y o u , said t h e L i o n w o m a n

They all want to break at some point 2 5 0

T h e y laughed at o n e I loved in t h e b i g orderly split 92 334 since t h e 130 T h i s b r a n d o f soap has t h e s a m e smell a s o n c e This death you have nourished is t o o T h i s is my portrait ol Joanna

Y o u walk into an ordinary r o o m death 40 > 401

(

You w o n ' t be the o n e to turn away w h e n Y O I I I coffin l o o k e d unreal

I W.

BLACKSTAFF

PAPERBACK

ORIGINAL
AMONG OTHERS

INCLUDING

SAMUEL BECKETT EAVAN BOLAND Irish achievement in poetry. From the gritty directness of Patrick Kavanagh to the more formal cadences of John Hewitt and the sly lyricism of Nuala Ni
T>hrtnhnn11 fhi <v-irinon p w

CIARAN CARSON
A T T S T T N T f l A R K F

SEAN D U N N E PAUL D U R C A N MICHAEL HARTNETT SEAMUS HEANEY

figures like Clarke, MacNeice and O Rordin are brought into relationship for the first time, and the remarkable explosion of writing north and south of the border in the last thirty years is reflected in the work of poets like Kinsella, Heaney, Longley, Durcan, Carson, O Searcaigh and Sirr.

J O H N HEWITT PATRICK KAVANAGH B R E N D A N KENNELLY THOMAS KINSELLA MICHAEL LONGLEY MEDBH MCGUCKIAN LOUIS MACNEICE DEREK MAHON

tiuui

.vict.-1i<ui,

ciuu

u a c i i t

v c i s c

uy

PAULA MEEHAN J O H N MONTAGUE PAUL M U L D O O N RICHARD MURPHY

writers like Mirtn O Mire Mhac an tSaoi. language p o e m s facing

Direin and All the Irish appear with translations.

Short biographical critical essays on each poet and a searching and fair introduction make this an

EILAN N CHUILLEANIN NUALA N DHOMHNAILL SEN RORDIN TOM PAULIN W.R. RODGERS

I M I N

I)

HV./.ll

'61