From "Our morning went unheard"
There’s that drone; that sound of people trying their
best not to be heard behind their tiny computer screens,
flipped open and shrouded in intermittent smoke;
an empty coffee cup and seemingly no difference
between Google and God.
Publications and Prizes
applevalleyreview.com, Crannog, Fogged Clarity, Poetry Salzburg Review, Revival, Southern Ocean Review, The Coachella Review, The Dublin Quarterly, The Literary Bohemian, The New York Quarterly, The Shop, The Toronto Quaterly
I came second in a colouring competition in St Brigid's Primary School in 1987. It's been pretty slack since then.