Former radio executive turned writer and poet.
When Étaín was a little girl,
she read her faerie tales aloud
To flowers, frogs, and butterflies,
And to a chipmunk named MacLeod.
...
When Marvell's gardens won't suffice
We row our minds to paradise,
And find ourselves on distant shores
At home by hearth in marshy moors,
...
'O troubled morns set sail this ship, search out hidden coves;
Down wrinkled cheeks roar tears to singe my heart,
Shall ne're we find eternity's treasure trove?
Life presses flesh: What's the play? Where's my part? '
...
Fireflies dress dark naked night
With sparks hewn from bluest light;
Owl hoots loud in tall oak tree,
Star shoots there – O, didst thou see?
...
'My master said for me to come, and find this room, and find the one
Who suffers words made from spite, heartless words feigned contrite.
Now this room doth succor sweet, she thrills to life of tiny feet,
So, to this stage this Raven flies to quiz the one who loves such lies.
...