. . . we stood in the light
of the there-and-then world that has become the here and now
of the world as is.’
The word ‘because’ recurs so often in Eamon Grennan’s vibrant collection that it signals an ongoing impulse to answer questions of being, and of being a body. Whether attending to the quietude of a Connemara mare or the frantic vitality of a wren in a bush or a painting’s mesmerizing details, whether contemplating the destruction of innocent victims of political violence or measuring the effects of time in domestic or erotic contexts, his imagination — at once elegiac, sceptical and celebratory — continues to wrestle with attempts to say what it means to be alert in the moment, whether the moment opens into memory or is lodged exactly in a present fact. As his poems confirm and several of his titles suggest (‘World As Is’, ‘The Day That’s In It’) Eamon Grennan’s ‘migrant heart’ pulses strongly in descriptive language, enriched by assonance and consonance, that aims to make sense of the felt, immediate world.