I was interviewed by Keith Gaustad on his Burdock Radio show on Riverwest Radio, Thursday, 23 August 2012. The interviewed is archived and can be accessed here:
Friday, August 24, 2012
Interview on Burdock Radio
I was interviewed by Keith Gaustad on his Burdock Radio show on Riverwest Radio, Thursday, 23 August 2012. The interviewed is archived and can be accessed here:
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Future Blues
My new collection, Future Blues, is now out from Salmon Poetry.
It is available on your other book-selling websites too, and probably at
least order-able from most actual bookshops. But
it’s always best to go direct to the publisher:
Thank you for your support.
*
ISBN: 978-1-907056-90-1
Page Count: 86
Cover Artwork: Kyle Fitzpatrick, “Theater” (mixed
media on canvas, 95” x 96”, 2007), www.kylefitzpatrick.com
Michael S. Begnal’s Future Blues
is both a progression of and a break with his previous collection,
Ancestor Worship. Inasmuch as any poet’s work is a continuing narrative
defined by nothing more or less than chronological time, Future Blues is
the collection that follows its immediate predecessor and so cannot
help but be aware of it. Yet, as Begnal has written, “The best
musicians, writers, and artists for me are the ones who, either steadily
over time or perhaps in radical bursts, change their style or approach –
each new work in part an effort to surpass the previous.” The Irish
Literary Supplement described Ancestor Worship
as “an attempt at reconstructing an obscured heritage.” While traces of
such an impulse inevitably recur, Future Blues hurtles forward seeking
out “new images and modes of being” (as one poem puts it), even as our
collective future – death – looms.
Future Blues,
in its title, lashes Irish poetry past and future into alliance – a
desperate, daring act. Is that a space between “Future” and “Blues” or a
caesura? Whichever, it offers a narrow stage for the uneasy demimonde
of the present, where the Ghosts of Irish Poetry Past and Future meet,
and merge. This is a poetry of trace and gesture, of tree and leaf, of
light and surfaces, of haze and mark, drink, decline and persistence; a
poetry of disjunctiveness which swells notably into cohesive poems in
English and Irish – cohesive but still textured; a poetry of anomalies,
stitched across time and culture from Mongán to Laurence Sterne to Frank
O’Hara to Ron Asheton, often fragile, always intelligent, bristling
with formal spice. –Mairéad Byrne
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Sarah Bennett’s Article on the Irish Avant-Garde
![]() |
| A proto-avant-garde Irish poet |
It’s also nice to be kept up to date — I was not aware of
Graham Gillespie’s collection Love, Sorrow and Joy (which is grandiosely
subtitled “A New Voice in Irish Avant-Garde Poetry” and, strangely
for a first collection, includes an interview with the author himself) (this
book being the source of Bennett’s ironic title). Bennett criticizes it as conservative and
notes that “It’s difficult to conceive of an avant-garde — Irish or otherwise —
in which Gillespie could rightly be accommodated.” I can’t comment on this, as I’ve yet to read
the book, but I’ve always been a fan of such critical jousting, and it will be
interesting to see for myself.
Bennett rightly attacks Fintan O’Toole’s assertion that the work of Paul Durcan represents “an
instance of the Irish avant-garde breaking into the mainstream.” Durcan has never been an avant-garde poet,
and personally I find his alternately jokey/cranky speaker persona to be merely
irritating. But, that is just my
opinion. Bennett, in any case, is percipient in observing the difficulty, due to socio-historic circumstances, in even approaching the mainstream v. avant-garde debate in Irish literature.
Debates on the definition of “avant-garde”/“experimental” writing rage
continually. Bennett briefly delineates a number of other critics’ positions, seeming to gravitate toward Alex Davis’s. Still, I always wonder if a more specific critical context is necessary in a
piece such as this —
might she venture her own definition of the Irish avant-garde? But then,
arguing for this definition over that could be an article unto itself, perhaps
a book, and so in this case I like that Bennett just gets on with it, knowing that we get her drift, and
engages with the work in a way that reminds us why we ought to read and keep reading
it.
Wave Composition as a whole, by the way, looks to be a worthwhile journal.
Wave Composition as a whole, by the way, looks to be a worthwhile journal.
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,
this
book, It Swings from Side to Side*
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
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