The post is incredibly slow still, but it finally arrived. Yes, that is a bar of soap behind the gingerbread houses. It was a present, it’s mimosa and I like the scent.
I knew I was going to enjoy this collection; isn’t as if Damien is a complete unknown, but I was surprised at how much. I was surprised at how much colour there is in the images, and how Oracle-like (we know what I mean) they are. Colour runs in rivers through these poems that are quiet, understated and so perfectly precise.
The dominant colour is purple, the shade of blue that hangs between sea, sky, night and day. It’s the colour of twilight when all things merge. There are several worlds merging in Damien’s poetry, the place he left and returned to, the place he made his home for years and left with only a twinge of regret, the changing light of the passing day and the seasons.
The images that stand out for me are petals and honey pouring like water, and the ceaseless movement like the waves of the sea. I couldn’t say which poem is my favourite, but the one that I am thinking of now isn’t a purple poem, it’s a green one, Grazing Greens, perhaps because I am so pleased that Damien has made it back without disappointment, something that is so hard to do. Green is, after all, the colour of hope.