All posts filed under: Sex (mature category)

An Mhurúch san Ospidéal by Nuala Ní Dhomhnaill

  An Mhurúch san Ospidéal Dhúisigh sí agus ní raibh a heireaball éisc ann níos mó ach istigh sa leaba léi bhí an dá rud fada fuar seo. Ba dhóigh leat gur gaid mhara iad nó slaimicí feola. ‘Mar mhagadh atá siad ní foláir, Oíche na Coda Móire. Tá leath na foirne as a meabhair le deoch is an leath eile acu róthugtha do jokeanna. Mar sin féin is leor an méid seo,’ is do chaith sí an dá rud amach as an seomra. Ach seo í an chuid ná tuigeann sí — conas a thit sí féin ina ndiaidh ‘cocs-um-bo-head’. Cén bhaint a bhí ag an dá rud léi nó cén bhaint a bhí aici leosan? An bhanaltra a thug an nod di is a chuir í i dtreo an eolais — ‘Cos í seo atá ceangailte díot agus ceann eile acu anseo thíos fút. Cos, cos eile, a haon, a dó. Caithfidh tú foghlaim conas siúl leo.’ Ins na míosa fada a lean n’fheadar ar thit a croí de réir mar a thit …

Affixing the Imprimatur, queer art and blasphemy in Cork.

Wherein the definition of art and who gets the imprimatur ?   I find myself at a loss regarding how the problem of blasphemy is being discussed in Cork. There  has been no art-historical analysis of queer art, there has been little media reference to the issue of the 2006-2009 Defamation Bill, and discussion on one political site is limited to the idea that art should be subject to market-force and consumer popularity. Rather than to even attempt to deal with the paucity of discussion on this issue which is limited, unimaginative and striking in its poverty,I thought to look at the issue of leadership, or in this case, lack thereof. There are two posts on Poethead concerned with context in Irish censorship, specifically the use of blasphemy as a means of censoring art, I refer to the issue of visual art and blasphemy in the historic sense in relation to the Rouault controversy, an Irish historical precedent for art censorship based in the accusation of blasphemy.  The charge against that painter (a Fauvist catholic) was of  ‘blasphemy and incompetence‘, …

‘Vatican’ by Daragh Breen

Vatican Daragh Breen In a glass specimen-jar in the Vatican Archives is one of the blue bottle flies (Calliphora vormitoria), that festered in Christ’s wounded side as He was taken down from the Cross. In the catacombs of the fly’s eye is a moon suspended in darkness. On this sphere is a single, mast- like Crucifix , at the base of which is a simple white skull. In the empty right eye socket are the three nails that rivetted the body to the Cross. In the left socket, a new weak sun rises once a year, its light colouring everything the hue of the fox fur that was worn around the shoulders of a 15th Century Cardinal as he stepped out into the winter’s first snow, that made the marshes around Rome look lunar. Across those marshes stole the shadow cast by my figure , stitched into a crow costume that I made from a thousand dead wings. Just then an arrow pierced my side and I tumbled to the ground and waited for the …

Purdah I, by Imtiaz Dharker.

Purdah I by Imtiaz Dharker. One day they said she was old enough to learn some shame. She found it came quite naturally. Purdah is a kind of safety. The body finds a place to hide. The cloth fans out against the skin much like the earth that falls on coffins after they put dead men in. People she has known stand up, sit down as they have always done. But they make different angles in the light, their eyes aslant, a little sly. She half-remembers things from someone else’s life, perhaps from yours , or mine – carefully carrying what we do not own: between the thighs, a sense of sin. We sit still , letting the cloth grow a little closer to our skin. A light filters inward through our bodies’ walls. Voices speak inside us, echoeing in the spaces we have just left. She stands outside herself, sometimes in all four corners of a room. Wherever she goes , she is always inching past herself, as if she were a clod of …