In a message to a friend, I mis-transcribed the title of the poetry collection as Le Spleen de Pouchkeepsie instead of “Poughkeepsie”. That “C” should have been a “G”. It just so happens that the typeface is Hypatia Sans and its “G” is very much sans serif and it is very easy to mistake a “G” for a “C” especially when viewing at an angle instead of head on (The book was to my side as I typed away on screen). Take a peek at Hypatia Sans and savour its graceful contours in caps.
That canine resurgence of “pouch” (when pronounced as “pooch” due to the residue of the correct spelling of “pough”) suits the recursive doggedness this collection of poems by Joshua Harmon where the encounter with grittiness results in some grace notes of grit. Much of the effect is achieved through enjambement flowing into further enjambment. Take for instance this mini-portrait from “Tableaux Poughkeepsiens”
or the schoolteacher arriving
at a late regard for wine
by the glass and his own minimal
importance: if you break the rules
then you deserve the consistencies:
I like how the suggestion of an expansive oenophilia is reigned in by budgetary considerations (“by the glass”) but the minimal is also maximal in that more taste experiences are possible than if one stuck to consuming by the bottle. And there is that unexpected tension between rule breaking and “consistencies” not the expected “consequences”. Minimal departures full of full-bodied taste.
And so for day 1141