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Poetry and Miscellaneous Yap
Poems and general conversation from Irish poet Michael O'Dea. Born in..
Martin Hayes playing a road’s river sheen inthe last light of a November evening as coal dust of night collects on the North Clare coast ..read more
Nothing is plumb in this old pub:its walls, doors, floors. The dark-stained wood; patterned, coloured panes of glass;brass door-handles, ..read more
the page sucking life to nothing ensuing sandstorm plugs the void ..read more
This house is a box; I am a stone inside it. When you are here it is home, and I am a wad of cotton wool ..read more
I’m seeing Ireland’s geography, its east coast stretched before me like amap; Dublin, Swords, Drogheda, Dundalk, north to the ..read more
Lubeck , March 28, 1942 –Palm Sunday. Hours before the bells of London rang for the blessing of the palms, the bombers arrived ..read more
This, my effort at a dream song,  was first published in  Berryman’s Fate: A Centenary Celebration in Verse (Arlen Press, 2014) ..read more
Speak, speak to me; say something, some words, anything at all, say something for remembering; for remembering is all there is of us and ..read more
There is one voice singing; it is song – song and voice indivisible. Here is smile brimming; it is joy – joy and smile indivisible ..read more

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