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Interval: House, Lover, Slippages
'Interval: House, Lover, Slippages' is the first collection from Lucy Rose Cunningham. The poems find Cunningham in contemplative mode, seeking to understand: “the year 2020 and the years that follow”. The poems are neatly observed, paying close attention to melody, with a love of beauty reminiscent of the artists she references. 'Interval: House, Lover, Slippages' is a collection which overflows with imaginative, intoxicating images and sounds.
74 pages, Paperback
Published July 31, 2022
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
July 14, 2023
This collection is a wonder, a fractal of light shining upon a dark time.
With a tenderness unafraid of lyrical distance, Lucy explores what it means to have and hold and go without. These pages truly felt like an exhale; the manner in which she writes imitates the flow of my own thoughts, patterns emerging from fragmentation. These poems are haunted by the passage of time (the elusive blue hour) yet fiercely present, grounded with bright, flickering images. Each page is alive, and Lucy's verbs are electric: gathering, mending, embracing, singing.
What a delight to know Lucy and to have heard her discuss the inkiness of magpies. I am confident I'll be following her career for years to come. I felt the influence of Glück here, an apprentice.
"from the soft edges of sleep / I seek you one more time" (10).
With a tenderness unafraid of lyrical distance, Lucy explores what it means to have and hold and go without. These pages truly felt like an exhale; the manner in which she writes imitates the flow of my own thoughts, patterns emerging from fragmentation. These poems are haunted by the passage of time (the elusive blue hour) yet fiercely present, grounded with bright, flickering images. Each page is alive, and Lucy's verbs are electric: gathering, mending, embracing, singing.
What a delight to know Lucy and to have heard her discuss the inkiness of magpies. I am confident I'll be following her career for years to come. I felt the influence of Glück here, an apprentice.
"from the soft edges of sleep / I seek you one more time" (10).
Read
December 25, 20221.11.2022 (Open mic @Inn Deep)
Lucy’s tree poem [‘The tree that stands…’]
This one has passive-aggressive onomatopoeia which was excellent in a reading. Lucy said to close eyes for meditative reasons. [22.11.2022 ‘Caresses, waking to the quiet.’ opens ‘Interval’ with this same use of sensual trigger words, verbs in the context of skin contact. Grab some orange wine.]
‘I am forgetting what cinemas are like.’
The first poem Lucy read was this one on the cinema. Missing it in lockdown. It was romantic to me. Speaking my language. 22.11.2022 it’s not just taking the topic of cinema for a poem but moulding it around the loss of the cinema as yet another staple of society which couldn’t go on.
‘Light fades around 7pm.’ The romance of an evening sidewalk perspective. Made cosy. Amplified by “Mise en scène for one.”
I was going to skirt over the moving ‘Gran,’ a poem to a grandmother. And leave my comments short and all encompassing—what provokes with the earlier poems you get with the rest, in the way of poetics. There are new emotions every few pages. I was going to skirt over ‘Gran’ but thought it silly to do so if I was then going to quote, “peanut butter (crunchy)” in how amusing the parenthesised “crunchy” is.
Not a one misses. I can only say that the two line aphorism-like ones that live on page corners don’t evoke as much of a picture as a half page length or longer. But that’s a personal preference for narrative. Two scenic elements creating distance in time or place or thought.
Partick library, Glaswegian children speak of cow piss and hard cheese in the booth ahead.
Lucy’s tree poem [‘The tree that stands…’]
This one has passive-aggressive onomatopoeia which was excellent in a reading. Lucy said to close eyes for meditative reasons. [22.11.2022 ‘Caresses, waking to the quiet.’ opens ‘Interval’ with this same use of sensual trigger words, verbs in the context of skin contact. Grab some orange wine.]
‘I am forgetting what cinemas are like.’
The first poem Lucy read was this one on the cinema. Missing it in lockdown. It was romantic to me. Speaking my language. 22.11.2022 it’s not just taking the topic of cinema for a poem but moulding it around the loss of the cinema as yet another staple of society which couldn’t go on.
‘Light fades around 7pm.’ The romance of an evening sidewalk perspective. Made cosy. Amplified by “Mise en scène for one.”
I was going to skirt over the moving ‘Gran,’ a poem to a grandmother. And leave my comments short and all encompassing—what provokes with the earlier poems you get with the rest, in the way of poetics. There are new emotions every few pages. I was going to skirt over ‘Gran’ but thought it silly to do so if I was then going to quote, “peanut butter (crunchy)” in how amusing the parenthesised “crunchy” is.
Not a one misses. I can only say that the two line aphorism-like ones that live on page corners don’t evoke as much of a picture as a half page length or longer. But that’s a personal preference for narrative. Two scenic elements creating distance in time or place or thought.
Partick library, Glaswegian children speak of cow piss and hard cheese in the booth ahead.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews