Crescent was getting more than a bit familiar with me. First it was my fingers, then the seams and zipper...
So be it, unto us all – Written in memory of Eadie, my wonderful rabbit, died aged 11, Feb. 13,...
There are no blue plaques in our village, no Heaney or Shackelton or Yeats to commemorate. A notable event is...
Watch David Lynch read his essay “Family Farm Survivor,” or read the text below. Family Farm Survivor, by David...
A Thin Place If you walk in a straight line across the beach from the footpath which runs between blue...
SUNDAYS You follow the thread to your country childhood, hands frozen potato gathering – little slave! the goose’s wet head...
Thomas Dunne published “The End of a Farm” in the Milwaukee Journal in 1994. After the piece, he reflects on the article...
The clouds of fugitive dust from the dirt roads were blowing back across his windshield, obscuring his vision. He almost...
“Why don’t you sit down for a while, Son.” I paused. The snow still clung tough to the ground, but...
Dark turf The breeze stirred ferns on the high bank. I watched you drop down the layers of Cloneen bog, then...
Listen to Laura Swift read her poem “Silage Time.” Silage Time They looked so snug All four bundled...
Anhydrous There’s an acre where corn won’t grow From an anhydrous leak 20 years ago When Jerry’s not planting seed...