Monday, June 30, 2008

Queen Maeve's Tomb at Knocknaree

Trekked up to mythical Iron Age Queen Maeve's (Medb, Medhbh,
Meav, Meabh) tomb -- about an hour STRAIGHT UP. Seems
that the Irish don't go for switchbacks. Huffed and puffed on the
slippery scree. I can't believe I didn't take a pic of the actual
tomb, but the wind was fierce and very distracting.
The site dates to at least 2500 B.C. Spectacular 360 views
from the top.

On the drive back we stopped for a sackful of junk food:
coke, salt'n'vinegar potato chips, dark chocolate KitKat,
and for good measure, some cashews. O feast! O salt!
O chemical poisoning! To atone, at dinner I roasted
vegetables, mashed potatoes (or, as they say here, veg. & mash)
and baked some buttermilk biscuits (very light on the butter).
Very satisfying. (A splash of red wine in a crystal glass.)


I'm worried that I've not written a stitch of poetry
these past two weeks. Paul says that I'm storing it
away, that perhaps sometime next winter something
will pop up and make its way to the page. But I want
my poetry now! I want to choose the poem, rather
than the other way around. I want that particular high.
I want I want I want.


  1. i remember one summer you telling
    me your words didn't flow in summer.
    it will come.

  2. KE you are up early. Dang, girl.
    Thanks for the encouragement.

    I love the altered sign. It reminds me of one Jeff and I did at the new sculture park. We changed "Please do not touch, it harms the art" to "Please touch, it charms the art." Hehehehe.

  4. Peter: You mischievous boys! In fact, Paul and I just had a conversation about this very thing. There is something about sculpture outside that becomes very public, and begs to be felt with the hands.

  5. Just remember that, when it comes to poetry, you don't even have to go to Ireland to want want want.

    In the same boat, stateside...

    (Although my more logical self sides with Paul. Those poems are known to take their own time.)