Today I really read P.J.Kavanagh’s poems for the first time.

I’m through two books of his Collected poems from Carcanet Press, four to go. Finding myself this impressed by his early writing, I can’t wait to see where his voice will get to next! I am going to build in a batch of his poems to the materials for the August 20-21 weekend!

Here’s ‘September’ from a sequence out of his second book, the very nicely unpoetically titled ( and so truly poetically titled) On The Way To The Depot.


Cold light of the moon, over the sleeping sea,

over the whale-back islands, over me

here in a cottage on the mountain’s hip,

capture me, asleep.

Drag my memories through your freezing streams

until they come out cold and hard as stones

I can hold in my hand:

stones I can build with,

the dreams my memories and waking days are filled with.

I want a stone tower made of them in my mind;

one I can climb, and signal from, and understand.

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