The Stone

Who owns these hips                                these awful saucer over-lacquered eyes and abandoned pink-jellyfish-on-the-rock lips             this harsh-one-layer-mono does nothing for my double chin                                  but you already know that I’m...

There is nothing in the old Tuam beet factory only a greasy fluthering of  Natterer’s bats and some gnawing weasels. Once the full silos were emptied...

I’d like to spend Easter 2016 bird watching on the Isle of Wight. I will not be remembering shootings or blood. I will kill no bird. I...

Mass will be said for no more bad language and gambling and wanking that the Athenry boys are doing, down the back of the...

Elaine Feeney is, above all, a feminist. Her poetry examines the experience of being a woman in a patriarchal society, particularly in rural Ireland...

Q: Why were a hundred thousand children abused? A: Because this is a catholic country. Q: Why did the abusers get away with it? A: Because this...

Beware the one who talks to you of your children’s future for he carries an Earthquake machine that will rubble the lives of your children. Beware the...

      Your words were boots Joe, boots in Lewisham when black and white and yellow riot put down the Nazi scum, and in Trafalgar Square in ninety-one when the  fury of...

  I believe in them, so they do exist.   In the Wicklow Mountains It is easier to hide than you think.   Behind waterfalls. In sunless crevices. In densest rhododendroned foliage.   On...

Dave Lordan - The Impossible Paddy Painting by Alpini Gionatan When, following the big win- the real biggie- uncountable zeros after his name- he...