I like Pulleys & Locomotion. Is it good poetry? It makes me feel good, so yes. Especially after two shots of rum, it really zings home. This book, Ms. Galvin's first full length work, reminds me of the feel from good poets before. I can get lost in its method on the page as it transforms my mind into illusions and dreams. Galvin's drum has a rhythm that begs me to enter her zone and be comfortable, yet challenged, for awhile.
Pulleys & Locomotion jumps to the ethereal, to the real, and to the imagination awaiting another reality, but is grounded as the foot touches the road. I walk in Galvin's poems to a place that delivers an enigma, a jump to wherever the soul knows and needs no definition to clarify the feeling of being. I am not using her poems as a guide, but as a reinforcement of where I have been, or would like to go, in many nights of realization that we all travel roads to here and there. A journey that is elusive but real.
Some lines from Pulleys & Locomotion:
Overnight clocks had regained authority, took metronomes for brides. Young Rivka stashed the last unofficial green in a basket of apples and ran
to her Moishe, who in three minutes recounted the original malady of every stone in the village. Where to find a remedy? We fluttered
our hands in supplication, merchants went on conversing in the marketplace, adding consonants on one hand, launching sums on paper wings-- --From "After the Eclipse: Village Tale" (p 23)
A woman in a red coat gazed at a photo of herself naked, her hair tucked into a hat. If she impersonated herself
long enough, would she become what she saw? When she retreats, language meets clay, space
smoothes into line. Who are the bearers of compassion, my friend. She left, easing the diagrams
of her thoughts as she went. --From "When All Speech Has Ceased Within" (p 39)
The influences are many, but Galvin's voice has its own mind. She takes me where Bly, Codrescu, Knott, Hacker, Creeley, Lazard, Edson, Pommy Vega, Yau, Breton, Desnos, Mansour, among others have taken me before. The book is not flat. It flows.
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