Ghostlight - New & Selected Poems
Page Count: 134
Publication Date: Thursday, May 18, 2017
Cover Artwork: Mark Granier
About this Book
Mark Granier is a meditative observer, offering us moments of suffused, painterly stillness. In his work there is no undue clamour to be heard, no flashy flailing about in order to be noticed. This might seem to be diffidence, but I perceive it as integritas. He is resolutely detached, has wit, is visually acute, verbally precise, finely tuned and formally in control. Yet you can feel his keen mind at work.
…these poems really carve out a landscape before our eyes, from the city to the seashores of Dartland and off up into the hills. […] This is a real body of work, and not just any old random assembly of poems. I’m very glad to have read it.
Haunt is a frequently beautiful, often moving, tender collection of poems.
The words are made to work hard on a Granier page, his command of the word, the line is beautifully controlled. Every poem in this new book is an artistic construct. And it seems effortless – the ‘stitching and unstitching’ never evident, the result never seems laboured.
As in his previous collection, Airborne, these poems demonstrate an unfailing capacity for surprise, wonder and delight at the various world we move about in…
Mark Granier is a Dublin-based writer and photographer. His previous collections are Haunt (Salmon Poetry, 2015), Fade Street (Salt, 2010), The Sky Road (Salmon, 2007) and Airborne (Salmon, 2001). Prizes and awards include a number of Arts Council bursaries, The Vincent Buckley Poetry Prize and Patrick and Katherine Kavanagh Fellowships in 2011 and 2017.
His photographs have appeared in The Guardian/ Observer magazine and have been exhibited in a number of group shows, including the Oxo Gallery in London, the Municipal Gallery in The Lexicon, Dún Laoghaire and the RHA annual exhibition. He has done cover work for various publishers, including Faber & Faber, Dedalus, The O’Brien Press and Salmon. Irish Pages featured a portfolio of his photographs in 2011.
Read a sample from this book
Vulture Bone Flute
— 38,000 BC
Fitting to see the oldest airs
salvaged from a raptor — the air
of its wing — and there is music
in our bodies, drums and strings,
wind instruments fulfilling themselves
so blood and sweat sings
to surfaces, half-blinding those eyes
lost in the swing of a scythe,
a notched sword, the haulage
of hominid arms through foliage —
music that runs like sap
back to the root
of our species jogging on the spot
wired to an iPhone — chants, field hollers,
deafening wars, silences — the body
bearing the mind away
with riffs, keys, tones, variations
on what’s in us and what will come
to blow through our bones.
The Next Best Thing
is the aroma-therapy candle in the bathroom at the end
of a car-burning estate,
the instinct to breathe in, suspend
judgement and keep the (above all lowercase) faith —
metaphysics of streetlights coming on
gradually, each flicker like an echoey cough,
pink at first as the rosy winter dawn
that will see them off —
finding we are each other’s
strangers who stop in their tracks in the night
to stoop and kneel and murmur
to another: ‘It’s alright love, it’s alright’ —
Copyright © Mark Granier 2017