A Poem by Edward Reilly   Brennan was put to rest in a northern suburbs cemetery. An apt enough place, for, as James has it, we’re all suburbanites When it comes to the literary world, there being no city Where writers type up copy in this lumbering language Other than London or New York, where journals can … Continue reading →

Brionglóid Bhí an chearc uisce anseo, an foitheach is an corp ar a shuaimhneas ar snámh ag breathnú suas ar áilleacht éigin a lámh in airde aige d’fhonn toradh a stoitheadh i ngéaga an aeir: ag imeacht dó le sruth d’fhás bláth ina lámh a ndearnadh éan de (níor aithin mé é, bheadh orm a … Continue reading →