I have read some of Lewis’ work before so was expecting good things. He did not disappoint. This collection is less intense, more focused on clever wordplay, but it still has that strong frenetic rhythm to it that is the poet’s voice.
In every archived retina’s file
Or every mannerism marked in sand
And all of what brings me youthful peace
And all of the pieces and all of the parts
Brings the silk to a blinded start
It speaks of real, of disembodiment, of those fears that we all keep to ourselves.
Sometimes I look at my watch to make sure
I’m still alive
Nothing reminds us we are dying like a
clock’s face
The Dead Devil, The World’s End and A Failed Activist were particular favourites for me. I like that visceral use of language that is shown so spectacularly here.
My being me is bled from a heart
I’m tranced at a pivot by you being kind
So be cold
But look sharp
And keep my being delicate
At the trough of a boil
Where once was a word spoken in friendship
Please chop it up in to feathered forks
And slice the unknown into two parts of wisdom
This isn’t a collection to step into lightly. The poet really lances his own pain and holds it up for all to see. If you want to be a spectator to that, I recommend this collection.
What a pleasure you have been
Like treasure like streams
Like sleeping grass that fluffs your gold
Like bounding wool that holds your head
I’ll break your heart
I’m disappearing
If I’m dying
I’m still alive
Lewis has a lyricism about him that reminds me of the Beat generation, it’s got that anger and that movement that can change an entire world. It’s frenetic and raw, but clever with it. He’s slick and sharp. A great poetic voice that should be heard. I award 5 stars.
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