John Sexton

Life
1958- [John William Sexton; John W. Sexton [on title-pages]; also pseuds. Sex W. Johnston; Jack Brae Curtingstall]; b. Newington Green, London, to Irish parents; lived in London before moving to Ireland in 1982; contrib. fiction to New Irish Writing (ed. David Marcus) in that year; issued The Prince’s Brief Career (1996), the first of num. poetry collections, the most recent being Vortex (2005) and Petit Mal (2009), and The Offspring of the Moon (2013); ed., with others, The Cork Literary Review (2007); winner of Listowel Lit. Festival Award for Poetry with “The Green Owl”; wrote lyrics for Sons of Shiva, a CD album released by The Stranglers (orig. 1999, 8 tracks; reiss. with 10 tracks, 2002); lives in Kenmare, Co Kerry; awarded a Patrick and Katherine Kavanagh Fellowship in Poetry, 2007.

There is a Wikipedia entry - online; accessed 24.06.2020.

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Works
Poetry collections
  • The Prince’s Brief Career (Kenmare: Cairn Mountain Publishing 1996), 68pp.
  • Shadows Bloom/Scáthanna Faoi Bhláth (Dublin: Doghouse Books 2004), 67pp., ill. [haiku with Irish translation by Gabriel Rosenstock]
  • Doghouse (Tralee: Vortex Books 2005), 72pp.
  • Petit Mal [A White House Poetry Book] (Limerick: Revival Press 2009), 88pp.
  • The Offspring of the Moon (Moher: Salmon Poetry 2013), 76pp.
  • Futures Pass (Moher: Salmon Press 2018), 103pp.
Childrens Fiction
  • The Johnny Coffin Diaries (Dublin: O'Brien Press / RTÉ 2001)
  • Johnny Coffin School-Dazed (Dublin: O'Brien Press 2002), 250pp.
Sundry contribs. incl. three poems in Incognito, ed. Chris O’Rourke (Spring 1998); ed., with Eugene O’Connell, Sheila O’Hagan, he Cork Literary Review, Vol. XI (Cork 2007).


Quotations

Limerick for Eunice Yeates

Eunice Yeates was late one day
and took an avocado.
She thought it was a type of bus,
which she boarded with bravado.
Alas, it was no simple means
of going from A to B;
and she ended up quite late that night
In the town of Guacamole.
—Posted by Eunice on Facebook, 21.05.2017.

Old Tobacco Tins

the ghosts of flaked tobacco lingered
in those empty tines for years. I'd keep
some in the toy-box, often fingered
open the lids to let the scent seep
into the room, so tht ghosts could walk
at their ease, their sharp aroma nip
my nose. Then I would snap the lids back
so they'd be trapped again. Other kids
had not time for captive smells, would check
different guests into theirs. Like maggots
for instance, the perfect fishing bait.
Onthe riverback I'd watch song-birds
hovering over the churning grubs, wait
to see them peck those throbbing gems
and fly off. Wasps would also raid
those thins, lift a maggot and be gone.

Along the sun-glared river the tins shone.
 
—From Vortex (Doghouse Books 2005); posted by Sexton on Facebook, 28-06-2020.

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