Showing posts with label after hours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label after hours. Show all posts

Sunday, July 22, 2018

Sinners Dance — Darrell Epp (Mosaic Press)

Today's book of poetry:
Sinners Dance.  Darrell Epp.  Mosaic Press.  Oakville, Ontario.  2017.

sinners dance by darrell epp

Today's book of poetry is willing to go down any road Darrell Epp chooses to take us.  Sinners Dance continues the hard driving standard we've come to expect from Mr. Epp.

Sinners Dance is the third title by Darrell Epp that Today's book of poetry has explored.  You can find links to Today's book of poetry and After Hours (Mosaic Press, 2016) and Imaginary Maps (Signature Editions) right here:


The only thing that has changed with Darrell Epp's new poetry, Sinners Dance, is that the beautiful bastard is getting better.  He's upped his game.  Sinners Dance brims with lovely movies and astonishing novels, all sorts of entertainments, disguised as tight, brief and illuminating poems.

Left Lung

the fuzzy black spot on the x-ray reminded
him of a dark star which reminded him of a
movie but this was no movie, the specialist
was very sorry, left lung he said but meant
right lung, the image was reversed, how odd
to be alive, standing in the hub of the world's
sweaty churning in a miami dolphins jersey
not knowing what to say, where to aim. he
thought of that end-times prophet preaching
in front of jackson square; the beast rising
from the sea, the woman with MYSTERY
tattooed on her forehead. he wished he'd
listened, he wished he'd hugged him, why
hadn't he hugged him, he thought of being
a kid, racing his bike up the ramp, catching
air, defying gravity, moments so pregnant
they were building blocks for every other
moment, like fighting against rush hour
traffic, the endless throbbing of it all, he
headed down main west toward james st.,
he'd find that guy waving his homemade
signs, he'd touch him, and as the stock
exchange wound down, as tanks moved
across the desert, confess everything.

💫💫💫

Darrell Epp's poetry often leads to fits of jealousy for Today' book of poetry, when what I really want is to share how fine I find these poems.  One of Epp's excellent tricks is to allow the reader instant access.  Epp doesn't put anything between the story he wants to tell and the reader.  The reader digests these poems on contact.

Another thing about Sinners Dance, Epp is getting wiser.  So many of these poems wrap up the frayed edges of our thinking.  Today's book of poetry isn't suggesting that Darrell Epp suddenly has the answer to everything, instead his poetry leads us, without impediment, to the right questions.

Winter Dream

'talking about shopping is not really talking,'
she said, that's why she didn't answer
jill's texts anymore, that's why she blocked
her on facebook. i said, 'there's an
alternative world where i'm an mvp,
a vip, with dozens of grandkids.'
she said, 'that's cool,' and carved
obscenities with her thumb into
the frost caked on the window.
that winter the world was our
idea, our boozy chauffeur, our
hunchbacked prankmonkey
somersaulting on command.
the spell lasted until the cat
got sick, the vet's disdainful
looks made us feel like guilty
truants, she gave him the finger
as i paid the pharmacist, then
the pipes froze on us and nine
months later she was teaching
english on the island of kyoto.

💫💫💫

Today's book of poetry has Pharoah Saunders on the box this morning and that should come as no surprise.  Our morning read was led, with brisk enthusiasm, by Milo, our head tech.  Milo suggested we come up with a name, a title, a designation of some respect, per se, for the poets we've visited at least three times.

Off the top of my snowy-white head memory would suggest that list include Nelson Ball, Sue Goyette, Stuart Ross and now Darrell Epp.  We will have to look a little closer to confirm our list.

Today's book of poetry is open to suggestion.  We threw Milo's idea around the room and liked it, then we agreed we'd wait until we heard what you readers thought.  We can't wait to hear what you think.

Once we started reading Darrell Epp's Sinners Dance, everyone on our staff entered Epp world and did our best to hammer these fine poems home.

Halo of Flies

i'm patrolling my turf, counting the windows without
glass, the bakeries and shoe stores turned into squats.
this is where ifrah hitched a ride on the handlebars of
my mountain bike, this is where lily informed me we
had nothing in common, she made it sound like she
was imparting the secret of the universe and i could
barely stifle a yawn. that's the first escape where we
looked for mars the war god through your brother's
telescope, had chin-up contests off the ladder. i give
it a tug and the metal groans and shakes, oxidation
takes no prisoners. rust always wins but he doesn't
have to be so smug about it. i'll come back with a
camera, i'll record all the fading signage before
the demolition crews make way for gentrification.
i'm in the dog house because i forgot valentine's
day, my wife says i seem distracted, my head's
an empty bag, my heart's a corroded cog, my
left brain trips up my right brain like a saboteur,
i see consciousness as a halo of flies, as the
900-pound gorilla on the other end of the
seesaw. i step on a crack, say a prayer, give
thanks for the men who poured the concrete,
laid the bricks and pipes we take for granted,
recall there's grace enough for everybody.

💫💫💫

"recall there's grace enough for everybody."  That is a great line and a fine end.

Today's book of poetry has always liked lists.  Darrell Epp is going on our list, the list we keep close for ready referral.  Sinners Dance will reel you around the floor, make you guilty-dizzy in parts, happy-dizzy in others.

That's some good dancing.

Image result for darrell epp photo

Darrell Epp

ABOUT THE POET
Darrell Epp’s poetry has appeared in dozens of magazines including Maisonneuve, Poetry Ireland, Sub-Terrain, and The Saranac Review. His previous poetry collection include Imaginary Maps (Signature Editions, 2009) and After Hours (Mosaic Press, 2016). Darrell lives in Hamilton, Ontario.

BLURBS
“Sinners Dance places the reader in a pre-apocalyptic world, clearly recognizable as our own …There is wit in Epp’s writing, but the overall view of life is bleak, the guardians of our civilization blind, the maps deceiving.”
     – Bernadette Rule, Hamilton Review of Books


“Epp’s poems have a distinct Hamilton flavour, he also says there are certain truths and experiences everyone can identify with, no matter where they live.”
     – Emma Reilly, Interview & Feature in the Hamilton Spectator



Darrell Epp
reads
Pregnant Fly Dead on my Windshield
Video:  Darrell Epp


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DISCLAIMERS

Poems cited here are assumed to be under copyright by the poet and/or publisher.  They are shown here for publicity and review purposes.  For any other kind of re-use of these poems, please contact the listed publishers for permission.

We here at TBOP are technically deficient and rely on our bashful Milo to fix everything.  We received notice from Google that we were using "cookies"
and that for our readers in Europe there had to be notification of the use of those "cookies.  Please be aware that TBOP may employ the use of some"cookies" (whatever they are) and you should take that into consideration


Wednesday, November 29, 2017

Imaginary Maps - Darrell Epp (Signature Editions)

Today's book of poetry:
Imaginary Maps.  Darrell Epp.  Signature Editions.  Winnipeg, Manitoba.  2009.


Mission Statement

the disease of consciousness
and all that it requires:
nurses telling me to relax,
musty four-colour newsprint,
prophecies unheeded
and promises kept,
books packed with lies,
memories of redwoods,
mistakes on auto-repeat, your
woefully underwritten third act,
my unquenchable hatred
for whoever ruins a mystery
by solving it,
that first kiss and
the downhill slide,
the mathematical
laws that bind us,
twin sisters named
hope and rage, vagrants
i mistake for vampires,
trichinosis,
all of it and
always the
terrible whiteness of
the empty screen, a 
burden too heavy
too put down.

...

Well, Today's book of poetry should have known, what we mean to say is that we are not surprised that Darrell Epp started out like this.  Imaginary Maps predates our previous outing with the venerable Mr. Epp.  Today's book of poetry lavished praise of Epp's After Hours (Mosaic, 2016) and you can read that blog/review here:


"Mission Statement" kicks off Epp's Imaginary Maps as a kick-ass-start-as-you-mean-to-go-on and he doesn't really let his foot off of the gas.  

Along the way he throws in an almost perfect love poem like "For Jane" and you forget his fierce mantle for a moment, the hard demeanour, and remember that Epp writes poems that will make you stutter-step.  He has the kind of clarity that will stop you in your tracks.  These poems are laced with lines of almost perfect clarity and simplicity.

For Jane

i step out of the ford f-150
to admire the lunar eclipse.
it's a scary shade of red. i'll
see another one when i'm 
old but i'll never see jane
again, there's a hole in my
pocket. i lost two dimes today.
when i go home after work no
one will be there to ask me for
anything. the moon is pulling
away from us, three inches a year,
because of tides and gravity, that's
a fact, jane told me all about it.

...

What Today's book of poetry really admires about Darrell Epp and Imaginary Maps is that Epp already has his voice - and it's clever, clear, wisely tapered.  Epp will say the thing but he won't drag it out.  Sometimes it's disguised as an observation, an almost throw-away aside but Epp is worth paying close attention to.

It helps that these stories ring true, experience won.  Epp isn't making up plot lines, he's relating pertinent events to provide the platform for his deeply humanist agenda.  Epp has a great dark sense of humour that helps keep his genuine urge towards rage in check.  There is always that yin/yang swing to the pull of violence and the fighting urge to do the right thing and Epps love to play with the tension.

Retro Cafe

off-screen, a match is lit.

your shaky hand spills coffee.

"i don't think you can truly understand
dostoyevsky until you've had your heart
broken and set on fire, then everything
becomes as simple as checker--"

look i really hate to interrupt, you
being suicidal and all,

but what is it with this place?

isn't our waitress the girl
king kong fell in love with?

isn't the bartender the pie-in-the-face man
in all those classic comedies?

doesn't the owner look like the fat man
from the maltese falcon?

and aren't you dietrichson, the luckless
husband from double indemnity,
directed by billy wilder,
1944?

...

Our morning read was a little earlier than usual as Today's book of poetry had some out of office commitments to attend to.  Epps helped keep the pace up as we toured Imaginary Maps.  This is a first book that shows no signs of being a first book, these poems read/shout experience.

Milo, our head tech, said they reminded him of the great Dave Etter's poems in that they have ample evidence of the same reasoned simplicity.  Surprisingly enough everyone in the room agreed.  Imaginary Maps will provide all the direction you need.

Happy Ending

3 or 4 years ago my entire
life fit inside a ziploc bag.

now
i've started cycling and writing again,
and my life is too big to be contained
inside any container i've ever seen.

and the universe, which weighs more
that i can guess, fits quite comfortably
inside my brains, which only weighs
3 lbs.--it's a miracle!

you're inside here, too.

...

Today's book of poetry knows Imaginary Maps is an older, first book, but we are convinced Darrell Epp came out fully formed.  

Today's book of poetry loved Epp's After Hours as well.  This older, first book only confirms the deal and we can't wait to see what Mr. Epp gets up to next.

Darrell Epp

Darrell Epp

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Darrell Epp’s poetry has appeared in dozens of magazines around the world including Maisonneuve, Poetry Ireland, Sub-Terrain, and The Saranac Review.

BLURBS
Darrell Epp's poetry is just bursting with artistry, but you only notice the magic, never the technique behind it. These are, quite simply, marvelous poems --  poetry that's actually fun to read. Open up the book, read a few pages. You'll see for yourself...  And if you ever get caught in the subway between stations, try to sit beside a guy like the guy who wrote these poems.
     - David Gilmour, author of The Film Club


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DISCLAIMERS

Poems cited here are assumed to be under copyright by the poet and/or publisher.  They are shown here for publicity and review purposes.  For any other kind of re-use of these poems, please contact the listed publishers for permission.



We here at TBOP are technically deficient and rely on our bashful Milo to fix everything.  We received notice from Google that we were using "cookies"
and that for our readers in Europe there had to be notification of the use of those "cookies.  Please be aware that TBOP may employ the use of some "cookies" (whatever they are) and you should take that into consideration


Thursday, June 29, 2017

After Hours - Darrell Epp (Mosaic Press)

Today's book of poetry:
After Hours.  Darrell Epp.  Mosaic Press.  Oakville, Ontario.  2016.

Hamilton Ontario Poet Darrell Epp

The best poems in Darrell Epp's After Hours remind you of the first time you got stoned.  The first time you felt dangerous.

You know how you felt the first time the veil came down.  The first time you saw behind the wizard's screen.  Welcome to a new Oz.

Epp has just the right amount of disgruntled dissatisfaction to fill these poems with the proper vigour. Hope doesn't come easily but it is buried in the seams of After Hours.  Maybe under an old car with a mad dog chained to the bumper, the hard-packed soil oil stained.

The Mongol Invasions

i have as of late acquired the ability to
turn myself into fictional characters,
it's an old man in a rent-controlled
basement today--no one suspects
he's really an eccentric billionaire
with a thousand years of memories.
i prowl the malls, laugh at the
baffled cluelessness of the
bargain-hunting taxpayers.
i seem to recall having
magic powers, a dozen
wives and x-ray eyes;
watching atoms knit
themselves into pairs,
then clans, then faces.
maybe a face will say
hi to me today, maybe
i'll make a new friend
who truly understands:
we'll trade war stories
about missing dorothee
and rampaging across
asia with genghis khan.

...

Today's book of poetry positively romped through Darrell Epp world.  I want to tell you that Epp made me think of Bukowski but in truth Epp is not a Bukowski cat.  So then I'm thinking somewhere between Johnny Rivers melancholy and Len Gasparini rant and maybe with a modernized Milton Acorn thrown in there for a touch of righteous rage.

How silly to be looking for comparisons when Epp can so clearly stand on his own.  These quick and sharp narratives cut clean as a razor.  Epp has found a voice just below the bellow of flat out rage and is comfortable roaming that dangerous territory.  It certainly makes for kick-ass poems.

Our morning read was like watching young kids with their first fireworks, setting them off one at a time.

Contraindications

an unpolluted pacific

a garden of eden sky

the man in the moon

a star's molten heart

a volcano's teardrop

put one of the above under your
tongue every 4 hours or as needed.

do not mix with food, do not answer
the phone, and if anybody asks, tell

them you haven't seen me, tell them
you haven't seen me for months.

...

After Hours is Darrell Epp's second book of poetry.  Today's book of poetry didn't have to go far to find his first book, Imaginary Maps (Signature Editions, 2009), we have a copy on shelf of "coming attractions."  Today's book of poetry will be looking at Imaginary Maps in the not too distant future.

When Milo, our head tech, put Imaginary Maps down on my desk I had an immediate flashback to the first time I read it.  Cue big smile.  Epp is a quick study because he allows the reader immediate entrance to his chaotic world, seasons it with kindness.

The Robert Crumb type front cover of After Hours has a Bukowski type "Hank" character with angel's wings sitting with other barflies as eternity sneaks up on them.  Rarely are covers so apropos.

Telephone Game

the message ran around the world; by the
time it came back to me i had a wooden
leg and lived in a castle made of bone.

my pet unicorn could sing like a bird.
i was a wanted man, one step ahead
of irs, kgb and other sinister acronyms.

i beat superman at arm-wrestling and
punished all who loved me. love's a
word poets use as a crutch, like 'very'

and 'and.' funny how love brought out
my inner martyr: a lesser man would
have broke both your arms. what was

it, that thing you thought you wanted?
sorry. but don't look at me, look at the
universe, downright peacock-y in its

nightly burlesque: supernovae like
popped corks; the milky way,
waving her spiral arms like shiva

herself; the gravity that pulled me
to you, indiscriminate, affirmative, it
felt like heaven, or the next best thing.

...

Maybe After Hours is an entirely coincidental title pick but Today's book of poetry is convinced Epp is giving a big nod to ol' Martin Scorsese's flick of the same name, After Hours (1985).  In the episodic flick, think of individual poems, the hero/loser is entirely over his head from one late night misadventure to another.  The character presents as though he were on top of things, as though he were in control whereas the movie is one continuous lesson in how he controls nothing at all.

Darrell Epp's After Hours discombobulates the reader in much the same way.  It is a great ride. Buckle up.

Image result for darrell epp photo
Darrell Epp

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Darrell Epp’s poetry has appeared in dozens of magazines around the world including Maisonneuve, Poetry Ireland, Sub-Terrain, and The Saranac Review. His previous poetry collection was entitled Imaginary Maps (2009). He lives in Hamilton, Ontario.

BLURBS
“In Epp’s second collection of poems, he explores diverse themes and imagery firmly rooted against a gritty postmodern backdrop.” 
     – The Hamilton Spectator

“A fun, sly jumble of poems that often tackle weighty issues”
     – Jonathan Ball, Winnipeg Free Press

“In After Hours, Darrell Epp proves himself as adept at bricolage as he is at ventriloquism. That he manages to not only interpolate discrete, oblique, and temporally disconnected texts and cultural signifiers into his poems, but does so while remaining consistently tethered to the visceral reality of his native Hamilton, a city he describes in “No Sweat” as “awesome and oblivious/and no help at all,” is no mean feat.”

     – Phillip Crymble, Hamilton Arts & Letters


“I enjoyed these poems immensely.”

     – William Peter Blatty, author of The Exorcist


“Lucid, raw and honest poems, refrains that slide with grace and wit from the particular to the general, from past to present and back again, authentic and absorbing.”
     – novelist and screenwriter Rudy Wurlitzer (Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid and Little Buddha)


“If you ever get caught in the subway between stations, try to sit beside a guy like the guy who wrote these poems.”
     – novelist David Gilmour (The Film Club, Back On Tuesday)


“Funny and fun to read, playful but also deadly serious…a depth of experience got at only in the best poetry.”

     – novelist Samuel Thomas Martin (This Ramshackle Tabernacle, A Blessed Snarl)

mosaic-press.com

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DISCLAIMERS

Poems cited here are assumed to be under copyright by the poet and/or publisher.  They are shown here for publicity and review purposes.  For any other kind of re-use of these poems, please contact the listed publishers for permission.

We here at TBOP are technically deficient and rely on our bashful Milo to fix everything.  We received notice from Google that we were using "cookies"
and that for our readers in Europe there had to be notification of the use of those "cookies.  Please be aware that TBOP may employ the use of some "cookies" (whatever they are) and you should take that into consideration.