Paul Muldoon

Aisling – Paul Muldoon

Aisling – Paul Muldoon

I was making my way home late one night this summer, when I staggered into a snow drift. Her eyes spoke of a sloe-year, her mouth a year of haws. Was she Aurora, or the goddess Flora, Artemidora, or Venus bright, or Anorexia, who left a lemon stain on my flannel sheet? It’s all much of a muchn... »