Elements

by James Galvin

Book by Galvin, James

Genres: Poetry

59 pages, Paperback

First published April 1, 1988

Reviews

[Jeff · Rating 5 out of 5]

My favorite of the Galvin poetry volumes? The aphoristic precision of Imaginary Timber made for a remarkable improvisation on the Argentine modernists, but God's Mistress, unbalanced between its prose and verse sides, between its California, Wyoming and Iowa locales, was spottier. Elements was a comeback to the aphoristic intensity of the debut. What's fascinating to me now is that the perception clarified in the complexity of writing metaphysically coherent conceits is shaken by an erotic scale that finds every thing one is attracted toward leaving: The mother, the relationship (presumably), his father-figures, Ray Woorster and Lyle Van Waning. There's a bruise on the scud. Here are 15 or 20 poems I would reckon before living without.

[Jennifer · Rating 4 out of 5]

A taste of prairie wind.

[Jeremy · Rating 2 out of 5]

"Genesis" / "Regard" / "Special Effects" / "Spring Blizzard"

[Jeni · Rating 4 out of 5]

Once I finished swooning from James Galvin's ruggedly handsome photo on the back of the book, I was able to tear through this chapbook almost without stopping. A little dated by now, in terms of style (published in 1988), but his arresting look at the way nature interweaves through our own patterns, when it holds back from being pedantic, is breathtaking. From Testimony: "You can't step into the same/River even once,/And why would you want to? You can't/Lie down without turning your back/On someone. The sun slips/Like butter in a pan."