• READING PAUL MULDOON

    Reading Paul Muldoon this afternoonI thought of you for no reason.It wasn’t your birthday, notthat you celebrate them where you are,nor the anniversary of the day you died.And it certainly was not becauseI was reading about Ireland sinceI never imagined I had Irish blood, andyou never went there, and when I didI didn’t know you…


  • GALWAY HIGH STREET

    She must be what, in her thirties nowbut in my mind she will alwaysbe nineteen, maybe twenty, shewill always be standing outsidethe boarded over windows of a storefronton High Street, most likely a mauvenubby skirt reaching just over the topof what might be Doc Martens, blackcardigan over a black turtleneckher fiddle tucked under her chin,the…


  • EIRE

    There are two principal problemswith Ireland, and I found bothto be utterly insurrmountable. Every town, even Galway Cityat any time of day or nightlooked like it should be a postcard. Add to that the horror that inevery pub I visited it was assumedthat if asked I would sing a song or, realizing I have no…


  • NESSLESS

    There are no monstersin this lake I tellmy granddaughter, answeringher unasked question.There are bears in the woodsaround here and thereused to be an owl which madean afternoon visit.There are deer, certainlyand there could be a coyoteor two. If you don’tbelieve me, ask the crows,everyone knows that theycan never keep a secret. First published in From…


  • THE HALF TRUTH

    As a Jewish kid in a small cityI suppose I had it pretty good, enoughof us that I didn’t totally stand out,and it helped living a single blockfrom the Jewish funeral home, somejust didn’t want to travel all that farwhen the inevitable time came. But we soon moved to the suburbs,the shtetl neighborhood was gone,and…


  • DUST AND ASHES

    Between Scylla and Charybdisthey cower amidst the ruinsfearful to look skywardlest they encouragethe rains of hell. Now and then they visitthe corpses, hastily buriedgrief drowned by the soundof the laugh of the gunnerpeering down from the hills.It is always night for the souland lookout must be keptfor Charon, who ridessilently along the rivers of blood,that…


  • A TWISTED ROAD

    Walking down the helicalroad, untwisting as you goyou discover placesyou never imagingedvisiting, nothinglike the path youthought you knew well. Stop and claimyour new heritage,find yourselfon an alien map,bury yourself in booksof new and ancient history. Pause here and considera King of Scotland,knights and lords,in the far distanceknow that you claima link to a manso honored…


  • ERSE WHILE

    Growing up, I never imaginedthat I was Lithuanian, I mean Imight have as easily been from Mars. And it was only in my dreamsthat Gaelic was an ancestral tongue,not one my ancestors spoke,at least those who hadn’t yetmade the unthinkable moveto Norfolk and the frigid sea. Now I am all of those, and I knowthat…


  • CAT (PSYCH)OLOGY

    It wasn’t until I hitmiddle age, which on my scalewill allow me to live past 100,that I discovered that catsare Celtic deep in their hearts.Our cat, she who adopted meand forced her then ownerto marry me, like it or not,was in love with the tin whistleand the uilleann pipes playinghad her in my lap, unmoving.But…


  • THE RUNES

    Here, in these unmown fields where the morning mists gather once stood the ancient chieftain his clan assembled about him staring into the distant trees under the watchful eye of the gods. As the October winds blew down from the hills, they strode forward blades glinting in the midday sun ebbing and flowing until the…