The End Of Art Is Peace.

Between My Finger And My Thumb The Squat Pen Rests; Snug As A Gun. ~from The Poem "digging

There Is Risk And Truth To Yourselves And The World Before You.

Publication Is Rather Like Pushing The Boat Out; Then The Boat/book Turns Into A Melting Ice Floe And You Have To Conjure A Second Boat Which Again Turns Into A Melting Floe Under Your Feet. All The Stepping Stones That You Conjure Disappear Under The Water Behind You.

The Aim Of Poetry And The Poet Is Finally To Be Of Service, To Ply The Effort Of The Individual Into The Larger Work Of The Community As A Whole.

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.