Poetry Is Always Slightly Mysterious, And You

Smile As You Find A Rhythm Working You, Slow Mile By Mile, Into Your Proper Haunt.

Sink Every Impulse Like A Bolt. Secure The Bastion Of Sensation. Do Not Waver Into Language. Do Not Waver In It.

I Might Enjoy Being An Albatross, Being Able To Glide For Days And Daydream For Hundreds Of Miles Along The Thermals. And Then Being Able To Hang Like An Affliction Round Some People's Necks.

I Am Not A Playwright. A Playwright Would Take "antigone" And Hit It A Few Clouts And Knock It Out Of Shape And Restructure It. My Versioning Was Strictly Verbal.

My Point Is There's A Hidden Scotland In Anyone Who Speaks The Northern Ireland Speech. It's A Terrific Complicating Factor, Not Just In Northern Ireland, But Ireland Generally.