Poetry is language in orbit.

The external reality and inner dynamic of happenings in Northern Ireland between 1968 and 1974 were symptomatic of change, violent change admittedly, but change nevertheless, and for the minority living there, change had been long overdue.

Even if the hopes you started out with are dashed, hope has to be maintained.

There is not built-in meaning to anything, we are free to add any meaning we choose to give it.

Irish readers, British readers, American readers: is it odd that I haven't a clue about how differently they react? Or better say, I cannot find the words to describe my hunch about them.

Hope is not optimism, which expects things to turn out well, but something rooted in the conviction that there is good worth working for.

Behaviour that's admired is the path to power among people everywhere.