My Body Was Braille For

The End Of Art Is Peace.

I Felt Implicated In American Affairs.outraged At The Blatant Lies About Iraqs Involvement In Al Qaeda, At The Regimes Arrogance And Stupidity, Guantnamo Bay And All The Rest Of It. But The Poems At The Start Of District And Circle Anahorish 1944, The Aerodromearent Particularly Aimed As Criticism. On The Contrary, There's A Recognition Of The Big Contribution To World Order Made In Europe During World War Ii.

Irish Readers, British Readers, American Readers: Is It Odd That I Haven't A Clue About How Differently They React? Or Better Say, I Cannot Find The Words To Describe My Hunch About Them.

Strange, It Is A Huge Nothing That We Fear.

Poetry Cannot Afford To Lose Its Fundamentally Self-delighting Inventiveness, Its Joy In Being A Process Of Language As Well As A Representation Of Things In The World.