Throughout the work, the poems’ narrator, a self-appointed “craftsman of contexts for the beauty // of toilet chains and dirt,” deploys a tone of frank and (seemingly) faultless logic – based on premises ranging from the idiosyncratic to the otherworldy, a spectrum managed capably (and affably) by the most reasonable of speakers.
Sarah Galvin’s Three Einsteins begins, “I want to spend my entire paycheck buying fancy drinks for ladies.” I want to spend my entire paycheck buying pens and paper and espresso shots for Sarah Galvin—so that she continues to write, and write, and write some more. I could read her brilliant and bracing poems—poems that move, like one of Galvin’s speakers, “in every direction at once”—for ten millennia. I plan to.
The lines clobber you, a fist upside the head at an unexpected moment, and you don't even mind the impact because now you can just take a moment to appreciate the beautiful songs that all these pretty birdies are whistling as they fly around your eyes.
Sarah Galvin is the author of The Stranger’s “Midnight Haiku” series, which are neither haiku nor at midnight. She has a blog called The Pedestretarian, where she reviews food found on the street. The thing she loves most about reviewing discarded food is receiving text messages that say things like “I hear the bus stop on 3rd and Union is covered with ham.” Sarah is poetry MFA student at University of Washington, and her poems can be found in io, New Ohio Review, The Far Field, Pageboy, Dark Sky, and Ooligan press’s Alive at the Center anthology.
8.75" x 5.675" Perfect Bound/Paperback