Profound fun! John Kilroy's "Point B" completes his trilogy. A strange book of poems, but a 'must' buy for those who have taken the journey through Kilroy's other poetry books, "Torque" and "Proof Of Flight."
I loved everything about this book, but it was mine to love. I'm biased, of course, given that it was my dad who wrote it, self-publishing it only five months ago, a mere three months before he passed. Only I, along with a handful of others, would have the particularly surreal experience of reading his poems about realizing he was dying from cancer while we watched him die from cancer. I read the first half while he was alive and the second half after he was gone.
Ol' John was a wily, thoughtful dude, though, and he could be as grounded or goofball as the situation called for, and he did so with gusto, generosity, and genuineness. Shortly after my dad passed, my brother observed, hey, at least we have dad's brain, suggesting John Kilroy's trilogy of poetry books were as if Dad had transferred his consciousness like it were AI now, a relic for us to revisit more than memory.
Tonight was the first time I had picked up the collection since the afternoon he died, as I wasn't sure what would pulsate outta me as I did. What came was a real respect and appreciation for a departed soul, remarking and reacting from time to time aloud. My dad's style ranged from wild to wise, and I recognized true parts of the abstract.
The guy had a lovely spirit and he was a grand poet. I miss him as both father and writer, but, man oh man, I'm glad he left behind his words.