Frank Corcoran

I preach softly to myself. Tread softly. The mind has mountains. Don’t let the fire out. In spite of ignoramuses, eejits or thollabawns. Do not weaken. Lick the imaginative faculties. Si monumentum quaeris, is it that ? ” Against the filthy tide ” . Of fifthraters, dirty waters running deep, the sonic rubbish, no school for eager ears, musical zero. Zounds! Irish, how are you. Bless the post-colonial and then plod on. It’s a long road to the dawn, to the tramonto and all, the flickering flame. Good work, continue ! Over that rainbow. Now ! At full belt. Some day angels and idiots.