Mis-givings

Now, Harry, / this morning, / I hear/ what I always hear/ & today I name it/ the coincidences./ Here we are: / you, me Li Po/ (add Edgar-the-Dead, / Frankie-the-Cat, / Jack-the Dog/ if one line counts/ as birth);/ three (or five)/ coincidences/ at the balcony railing, / railing for belief/ or wine, or God &/ able to settle for none."Thus begins the first poem after the last poem in this book. In Mis-Givings, Emerson Gilmore explores the search for meaning, for God, for a Truth to stand on. Don't let the ho-hum sound of that fool you. These poems engage, invite you into a confidential dialogue that is savvy, smart, desperate, and honest as hell. Gilmore writes with an easy grace that makes the reader wish he/she could muster such an accomplished doubt. The poems sing of the combat among the physical, the meta-physical, the spiritual, the heavenly, and the hellish for dominance in every waking, every sleeping, second and nanosecond of the life that passes his balcony railing. As the poet writes in "Father Chip says..." what a little devil/ God can be, / how He loves tricks, / how many rabbits He hides/ in His giant celestial hat." Enjoy these rich, searching, poems.