Well aren’t you the harsh necessity,
As in what fear is for?
It was the summer of
You should have been there,
Though the last thing I want
Anywhere near me is you.
Louche and thaumaturgic,
You made my faith
Easy as lying to trees.
Essence of the inessential
Is what you are, double rainbow,
Extrinsic as blood is to stars,
An empire not of death,
But inspired by death,
Farrago of arid precepts,
A few cheap ideas about hope,
The eschaton, alterity,
All featuring you.
What are the chances?
Slim to none.
But listen here, my fraud, my forger,
I could close my eyes at any time.
All I have to do is close my eyes.
Yes, more James Galvin. We’re currently having a love affair, he and I, so expect more. I’m kind of in love with him – in a literary sort of way – at the moment, thanks to a friend from CRW classes. So I’ve been looking up everything I can of his. It’s a useful procrastinating tool, reading new poetry.
“It was the summer of / you should have been there, / though the last thing I want / anywhere near me is you.” How…bitter and raw and angry and lovely. I imagine how I would say this, if I was reading it, and I can feel the heat and the emotion behind it. I wonder what was going on in Galvin’s life when he wrote this.
I love this. I love this. I love this.
That is all.