description

Alterations

AUTHOR: George Payerle

ISBN: 0921833-97-8
96 PAGES

$14.95 CDN
$12.95 US

ABOUT THE BOOK:

Alterations is a book of arrival at beginnings. When George Payerle finally escaped city life, he returned to the coast into which he had been born when Vancouver was a much smaller town — a coast where the mountains fall into the sea as waves of rainforest. This is a coast of "shadow weather" amongst cedars and fir where the light of everyday is a Turner painting, a land;/seascape suffussed with the spirit made visible.

In these poems the old coast of logging and fishing is all but extinct, inhabited by ghosts of men with peaveys in their hands and bulldozers in their eyes. Ghosts with the power to inform us, like the rusted logskidder’s arch standing by the highway as though it were a dinosaur’s hipbones.

These Alterations continue the musical meditations of Payerle’s Last Trip to Oregon, which memorialized the death of his friend, the poet Charles Lillard. The music has moved towards Bach’s cello suites and Jan Garbarek’s loon-like saxophone. The serenity achieved through mourning the death of a friend has moved into transcendent contemplation of the diurnal and the extraordinary — garbage day, George W’s baleful face, Vancouver Island rising like a tsunami in the west, the return of a prodigal daughter — transcendent but never without pain, or death — language many-jewelled as the fangs of "these wolves herding prey toward consummation, and tender yet as ewes with lamb."

 

REVIEWS:

"It is a fine act of literary juggling to write poetry that speaks with a voice of worldly experience but still manages to keep hold of those sensations of awe and wonder that spark the imagination. In Alterations, a book filled with poems as canny as they are uncanny, George Payerle keeps those torches, and many others, delightfully spinning in the air."
— Paul Vermeersch


"I can get lost here in .42 acres / of pure amazement" George Payerle writes, and it’s this merging of the trustable and grounded with the highdrifting lyrical that impels me to pluck these two lines from his manuscript and say, ‘Look, here’s a man who does this sort of thing effortlessly on almost every page, and is there anybody like him?"
— Don Coles