"The Book of Judas" is almost 400 pages of poems, most of which are from Judas' perspective, but also which get into the hearts and minds of modern people, many of them Irish, many of them Dubliners. What's amazing about the book (aside from the poetry itself, which is *wow*) is that Kennelly essentially claims Judas for Ireland. He claims Judas for Ireland: he takes that which is, by the world, perhaps most feared and loathed and he asks it to step inside and make itself at home. He's not making excuses, but he's not afraid to sympathize, even empathize with it. How cool is that?

Unfortunately, it's almost impossible to get in America—but Wychwood just found a copy for me! *rejoices*

For those of you who can't find it, here's a small taste/poor substitute—my favorite poem from the book:

"No Image Fits"

I have never seen him and I have never seen
Anyone but him. He is older than the world and he
Is always young. What he says is in every ear
And has never been heard before.
I have tried to kill him in me,
He is in me more than ever.
I saw his hands smashed by dum-dum bullets,
His hands holding the earth are whole and tender.
If I knew what love is I would call him a lover.
Break him like glass, every splinter is wonder.
I had not understood that annihilation
Makes him live with an intensity I cannot understand.
That I cannot understand is the bit of wisdom I have found.
He splits my mind like an axe a tree.
He makes me heart deeper and fuller than my heart will dare to be.
He would make me at home beyond the sky and the black ground,
He would amaze me with the light on the brilliant sand,
He is the joy of the first word, the music of the undiscovered human.
Undiscovered! Yet I live as if my music were known.
He is what I cannot lose and cannot find
He is nothing, nothing but body and soul and heart and mind.

So gentle is he the gentlest air
Is rough by comparison
So kind is he I cannot dream
A kinder man
So distant is he the farthest star
Sleeps at my breast
So near is he the thought of him
Puts me outside myself

So one with love is he
I know love is
Time and eternity
And all their images.
No image fits, no rod, no crown.

I brought him down.