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THE PASSIONLESS REVOLUTIONARY A ragged impulse – the scrivener’s tetch truncated our conversation on the working class. Your brief was their craft was their art, which liberation lost to them: mine was an impounded version of the waggoner’s instance, the vetch caught up in the wheel, thus anneal the war on wills, the writer’s mockery. Justice, your fruitless wand and weal is power to blow the thrust of the argument over the innocent sweet scatterbrained head of your sister. The lace- maker’s art has a hand in this, but like fingerless gloves, makes raw vision blind. published IN MEMORY OF HER, Dublin 2008

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

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