I've nothing against the Queen personally: I had lunch at the Palace once upon a time.

I credit poetry for making this space-walk possible.

The Ireland I now inhabit is one that these Irish contemporaries have helped to imagine.

Once off the bush The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour. I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot. Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not. -Blackberry picking

History says, Don’t hope On this side of the grave, But then, once in a lifetime The longed-for tidal wave Of justice can rise up, And hope and history rhyme

Poetry is always slightly mysterious, and you wonder what is your relationship to it.

You had to come back to learn how to lose yourself, to be pilot and stray-witch, Hansel and Gretel in one.