Wednesday, August 01, 2012

Poem for a James Liddy Book, at Lúnasa



Poem for a James Liddy Book, at Lúnasa


Book reviews must be analytical,
but I don’t want to be analytical now,
I just want to say that I like it,

Why do you like it?

Because of how it makes me feel

How does it make you feel?

Not like prose (even when there is prose)
but like at Lúnasa
sad and celebratory,
a wave of something anti-logical
in the chest and/or bowel

Why is it sad?

Because James in this book
knows of his death, the lights of dawn
as the débauché loses consciousness,
vomits and the party goes black,
the body cannot keep up
with the convulsions
and the amber liquid finally gags him—
and thus, because James is my friend

Why is it celebratory?

Because as he imparts
in numerous languages—
Silver English, Silver Irish,
Silver Latin among them—
until the blackout,
drink makes us feel good
and our friends are here,
they are naked
and we are penetrating/licking
each other
and could fall in love

What swings from side to side?

I think it must be the parts of the body,
but also that when we reach one side
we move to “the other”

What is “the other”?

Like when you gather berries
on a hilltop
and bring them to the bonfire
and someone hands you a bottle
and you take a drink
and you begin to speak
in cadences art-technologic,
which are taken up
with fire smoke,
and the beings,
who are real by the way,*
say “hi” back to you,
and in the morning you proceed
around the well
in sunwise circles,
     in ludic laughter


*Read the book

           
                 —MSB

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