Author: Dermot Healy

Cites

• Dermot Healy (1)
  • IN: The Collected Short Stories (2015) Anthology, Irish
    EPIGRAPH: Feeling for the right word / Leaves me breathless for the many, / As if through a lost limb sewn on / Feeling gradually grew // Through cold young flesh, / Lit some fingers with old identity / And excitement, while the others / Craved possession // Of life withheld, Hung awkwardly till breathing as one / The first words came like blood / Down distressed veins, // And, with a healing yaw, / New writing began like an exercise / Over and back across an empty yard / Turn, start all over.
    FROM: New Irish Writing, (1980), Poem, Ireland

Cited by

• Dermot Healy (1)
  • IN: The Collected Short Stories (2015) Anthology, Irish
    EPIGRAPH: Feeling for the right word / Leaves me breathless for the many, / As if through a lost limb sewn on / Feeling gradually grew // Through cold young flesh, / Lit some fingers with old identity / And excitement, while the others / Craved possession // Of life withheld, Hung awkwardly till breathing as one / The first words came like blood / Down distressed veins, // And, with a healing yaw, / New writing began like an exercise / Over and back across an empty yard / Turn, start all over.
    FROM: New Irish Writing, (1980), Poem, Ireland