“At home in Ireland, there's a habit of avoidance, an ironical attitude towards t…” — Seamus Heaney

The group of writers I had grown up with in the '60s - Derek Mahon, Michael Longley, James Simmons, John Hewitt, Paul Muldoon - formed a very necessary and self-sustaining group.

Poetry is what we do to break bread with the dead.

Eternal life can mean utter reverence for life itself.

My language and my sensibility are yearning to admit a kind of religious or transcendent dimension. But then there's the reality: there's no Heaven, no afterlife of the sort we were promised, and no personal God.