Love and death are intertwined, both strongly evoked. In poems like "Dream" the stream of imagery reminds me of Eluard. The imagery's sometimes too disjoint to construct a narrative from; like strangers stuck in a lift, the images have to find a way to get on with each other, and they usually do. Many poems alternate 1-line and 2-line stanzas. In part One, the last line often arrives at a place rather than a conclusion.
Much of the imagery is mainstreamly attractive -
- "until clouds smooth tracing paper// over the moon. They pull apart/ but waiver [sic?] like magnets// too-close together" (p.16)
- "estates// where roads writhe in endless cul-de-sac" (p.16)
- "clasps the side/ of the girl's face like a just-spun globe" (p.31)
- "tourniquet this moment/ before it bleeds out" (p.43)
- "My mind settles like a spun coin// warbling to silence. The fresh intimacy/ of your sheets is a currency// I'll fritter on cheap flimsy words" (p.68)
More mysterious is "my midnight resurrections/ trampled lines as I chased myself// into the mirror, a shaking finger muddying/ the bottom of a bag" (p.24). And I'm not convinced that "God sees me// as a tiny pink coffin, wandering// from place to place, waiting/ to fall into the open earth" (p.54) merits all that page area. Why "from place to place" anyway?
In part Three, words can become objectified - "We tripped over commas all summer" (p.59), "hurling well-fed/ adjectives through the air" (p.63), "adjectives prickle/ her palms like rain" (p.64). With so many images, metaphors can become mixed. In "keeling port// down my throat like a ship in a bottle. Waiting/ for the sails to be raised in my ribs, flailing at x", "port" is busy, as are sonics ("sails/flailing"), and the ending's enigmatic (maybe it refers back to the title - "Kiss"). In "Evocation" "the clutch chokes" - I remember when cars had chokes.
In "Holiday" and "So this is what it feels like", the metaphor ratio's lower. The latter in particular is close to prose and has a plot I've heard before as sit-coms one-liners. At times, as on p.54, the clipped imagery lapses into a form of telegramese but for the most part the tight phrasing enhances the intensity. I'm rather surprised that he's not been in some bigger magazines. Early days yet I suppose.
Other reviews
- Adam Horowitz (Ink, Sweat and Tears)
- Any McCauley (It's evident too in his tactical deployment of the line break, so that where he places his absences is just as important as where he places his words).
- Emma Lee
- Sheila Black
- Nathan Ouriarch (Dead Ink)
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