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Gatherings: Poems
by Dan Fitzgerald
32 Poems ~ 46 pages
Format: 6 x 9 ~ Perfect Bound
Price: $17.00
Publisher: Kelsay Books
ISBN: 978-1-63980-697-3
To Order: Amazon.com
Reviewed by Michael Escoubas
No less a luminary than John Keats had this to say about why poets write poetry:
Poetry should strike the reader as a wording of his
own highest thoughts, and appear
almost as a remembrance.
Keats’ observation resonated as I took a deep dive into Gatherings, Dan Fitzgerald’s latest collection. What stood out to me was Fitzgerald’s love of life, his commitment to looking for and finding beauty and spiritual sustenance on planet earth. Moreover, Gatherings is “plural,” which suggests a variety of gatherings the poet intends to explore.
Fitzgerald leads with “A Collection of Things.” This poem features common things “gathered” within his home: pictures on the wall, “Picked up over the years, / some cared for with love, / some hung to fill a spot.” Each picture has a story to tell, holds a special place in the poet’s life. They hang by the same things I have in my own home: screws, nails, wires, strings … a kind of life-definition … we’re “a collection of things.”
Considering Keats’ axiom that thoughts appear “almost as a remembrance,” “Never Getting Done,” highlights Fitzgerald’s delightful use of irony:
I can’t believe how much time
I waste in a day:
distracted by birds at a fountain,
waylaid by a book found
idle on a table,
ambushed by clouds proud
to be in the sky.
There was that time
when half a day was lost
just talking to an old friend.
And all that time down by the river,
just listening, watching, pondering
how many ways water flows over stones.
It is no wonder I never
get anything done.
This poem refreshes me; it takes me back to my youth, when I held my head under a deep-well pump on 95-degree days in July. Wasting time? Let’s waste more time with such poetry.
“Campfire Smoke Rises,” highlights Fitzgerald’s facility with sound and outdoorsy ambiance: “Campfire smoke rises like incense / as the crackling prayers of flames / burn the stacked wood to ash.” The poem continues with brushstrokes that paint “Stars that blink in the night through milky clouds,” and “fire flares in the dark.” The campfire becomes a kind of “sacrament” as voices “mix with the rising smoke.” The whole poem becomes a mystical experience within the space of a mere seventeen lines.
“Helping Out,” is a gathering of light sources; a varying of senses, shadows, a buffer against that which might otherwise take us down. Here is an excerpt:
I light a candle
from time to time.
There are all kinds scattered
around my rooms:
small votives, three inch pillars,
tapers long and short.
The poet subtlety marries his penchant for candles to practical experiences that define his life:
The one burning now, I lit
this morning when I got out of bed.
This day felt like it needed
a little help to move on its way.
His very surroundings become “gatherings” around which life coalesces. Fitzgerald captures another example of this in “Childhood Picture Gifts.” The poet discovers a long-lost envelope of pictures drawn during his childhood. They had been “resting” in a drawer as if waiting to be rediscovered … a blessing deferred.
I return to Keats’ axiom as the poet reflects on what “The Years,” have meant:
Poetry should strike the reader as a wording of his
own highest thoughts, and appear
almost as a remembrance.
They sit together,
the years,
talking among themselves,
telling old stories,
the occasional old lie.
New things come to them
as the days add up,
making one more year
to join the group.
They seem happy enough,
Even though some have seen
rough times.
Content in a way,
Though a little weary
that there are so many of them now.
I don’t know what to say
to them anymore.
They have heard so much
from me already.
So mostly, I just listen
letting them talk.
They seem pretty good
at telling me what I need
to know.
I am confident that John Keats would agree. Gatherings is underpriced at $17.00.
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