#Irish #NobelPrize #XXCentury #XXICentury
I can feel the tug of the halter at the nape of her neck, the wind on her naked front. It blows her nipples
I sat all morning in the college s… Counting bells knelling classes to… At two o’clock our neighbors drove… In the porch I met my father cryi… He had always taken funerals in hi…
The cool that came off the sheets… Made me think the damp must still… But when I took my corners of the… And pulled against her, first stra… And then diagonally, then flapped…
On the grass when I arrive, Filling the stillness with life, But ready to scare off At the very first wrong move. In the ivy when I leave.
I loved to carry Her violin case, its nose In air, its back end Nice and heavy, the balance Factored in and factored out.
Late August, given heavy rain and… For a full week, the blackberries… At first, just one, a glossy purpl… Among others, red, green, hard as… You ate that first one and its fle…
As a child, they could not keep me… And old pumps with buckets and win… I loved the dark drop, the trapped… Of waterweed, fungus and dank moss… One, in a brickyard, with a rotted…
There was a sunlit absence. The helmeted pump in the yard heated its iron, water honeyed in the slung bucket
The piper coming from far away is… With a whitewash brush for a sporr… Wobbling round you, a kitchen chai… Upside down on your shoulder, your… Pretending to tuck the bag beneath…
As you plaited the harvest bow You implicated the mellowed silenc… In wheat that does not rust But brightens as it tightens twist… Into a knowable corona,
I was six when I first saw kitten… Dan Taggart pitched them, 'the sc… Into a bucket; a frail metal sound… Soft paws scraping like mad. But… Was soon soused. They were slung…
The annals say: when the monks of… Were all at prayers inside the ora… A ship appeared above them in the… The anchor dragged along behind so… It hooked itself into the altar ra…
So winter closed its fist And got it stuck in the pump. The plunger froze up a lump In its throat, ice founding itself Upon iron. The handle
The pockets of our greatcoats full… No kitchens on the run, no strikin… We moved quick and sudden in our o… The priest lay behind ditches with… A people hardly marching... on the…