I can’t remember a time when there wasn’t poetry: from the Irish lullabies my mother sang when we were put to bed, to my first hard cover 1968 edition of …
Kim Scott is a Western Australian, with an Anglo father and a Nyungar mother. His novel is part fiction, part self-exploration as he moves his character Billy Storey, a teacher, …
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field the whole pageantry of the year was awake tingling near the edge of the sea concerned with itself sweating in the sun that melted the wings’ wax unsignificantly off the coast there …
I was listening to Bob Dylan’s All Along the Watchtower. Of course you would know it. It is one of those haunting songs that stay with us long after it …
“There must be some way out of here,” said the joker to the thief “There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief Businessmen, they drink my wine, ploughmen dig my earth None …
The Hermitage translated from Irish 9th century by Frank O’Connor Grant me sweet Christ the grace to find - Son of the Living God! - A small hut in a lonesome spot To make …
Recently, I traveled out to Clonmacnoise. A Sunday morning, grey watercolors soggy above and verdant cold green mush below with the River Shannon bending with lazy insouciance this way and …
Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell (2020) “The apples are turning on their heads; stalks are appearing from undersides, calyxes are facing sideways, then back, then upwards, then down. The pace of the …
Each time I have gone to Russia I make my way to Anna Akhmatova’s home in St Petersburg. She is one of the great Russian Silver Age poets (early 20th …