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	<title>Micheal O&#039;Siadhail</title>
	<link>http://osiadhail.com</link>
	<description></description>
	<lastBuildDate>Wed, 21 Oct 2009 16:36:08 +0000</lastBuildDate>
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	<item>
		<title>Loss</title>
		<description><![CDATA[The last summer he walked slower, chose to linger.
Pausing in a laneway, he ran a thumb along the seam
of an old garden wall &#8211; &#8216;Those joints need pointing&#8217;
he warned; attentive, we saw in his face some strange
play of inward movement. On request we drove to Meath;
those fields a dozen times the size of his own
pleasured [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://osiadhail.com/poems/loss/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Tremolo</title>
		<description><![CDATA[All that has been still an undertone,
Frets of memory half-heard deep
Below a hybrid croon of saxophone
Or when King Oliver’s horn’s darker
Notes warn a plantation child
He’d die an obscure poolroom marker.
A Bushman taps a hunting bow,
One end humming between the lips,
Drone of sound mesmeric and hollow.
At wedding gigs East Europe’s blues
In moods of a harmonic minor [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://osiadhail.com/poems/tremolo/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Faces</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Neat millions of pairs of abandoned shoes
Creased with mute presence of those whose
Faces both stare and vanish. Which ghetto?
Warsaw, Vilna, Lodz, Riga, Kovno.
Eight hundred dark-eyed girls from Salonica
Bony and sag-breasted singing the Hatikvah
Tread the barefoot floor to a shower-room.
Friedlnder, Berenstein, Menashe, Blum.
Each someone&#8217;s fondled face. A named few.
Did they hold hands the moment they knew?
I&#8217;ll [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://osiadhail.com/poems/faces/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Courtesy</title>
		<description><![CDATA[1
I bring my basketful to serve
Our table. Everything mine is yours.
Everything. Without reserve.
Poems to which I still revert.
Gauguin. Matisse. Renoir’s pear-shaped women.
Music I’ve heard. Blessed Schubert.
Ecstasies I’ll never understand –
Mandelstam’s instants of splendour, the world
A plain apple in his hand.
Lost faces. Those whose heirs
I was. My print-out of their genes,
Seed and breed of forbears.
Whatever I’ve [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://osiadhail.com/poems/courtesy/</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>Matins For You</title>
		<description><![CDATA[Come again glistening from your morning shower
Half-coquettishly you’ll throw
Your robe at me calling out ‘Hello! Hello!’
I turn over stretching out to snatch
A bundle from the air and once more to watch
That parade across your bower.
Jaunty, brisk, allegro,
Preparing improvisations of yet another day
As on our first morning twenty-seven years ago.
Sit on the bed-end and pull a [...]]]></description>
		<link>http://osiadhail.com/poems/matins/</link>
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