In this new collection Damen O’Brien’s focus roams from worlds we know all too well to worlds we don’t know at all, from the home life of the man who repairs electric chairs to a cheeky sonnet for the tardigrade, trekking the boundaries of life, love, death and the afterlife, with a cameo from the Devil’s wife. Viperous vignettes of the animal kingdom, sharp snapshots of political passions. The unifying factor is his distinctive, wry, gentle voice, a voice which has seduced poetry prize judges the world over. There is always something unexpected, something to send your thoughts in a new direction in a Damen poem. Pitt Street Poetry is delighted to welcome him aboard.
My wine warms
in its bloody bulb. It’s getting late and this is the Earth
that we are given. That’s magic, I tell you, just as
someone long ago must have spoken of their God
manifest as swan or bull. Because magic lets him do it.