Later in my sleep
I say aloud: take my word on it
this beautiful shipwreck
can never become real
but wake me up
and tell me I'm wrong"
In "Tauromachy" he creates a list of comparisons and conditions but adds visual details to keep them from sounding like dull axioms, and the effect is of a roguish observer, too young to yet be jaded:
"happiness exists only if it can
be spread across a grouping of days
sometimes the world at midnight seems empty
like an empty room in a sad empty gallery...
this world thrives on misunderstanding
a cloud full of moods for mature situations...
some mornings westerlies prevail in my sleep
the open radio glaring I had too much to dream last night"
It's almost as if he's describing life according to a weather report, with the unpredictable nature and variety implicit. Similar expressions throughout make this lyrical chapbook a collection more light at heart than much of what I've read, but still provocative; it's clever without being cute.
Special thanks to Ugly Duckling Presse for this review copy.
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