What
I have here is a twelve page quick chapbook by a postcard writer, who also
rides public transit in person and in spirit. No mention of postcards in this
double stapled offering, though I know personally of his postal
predilection. This chapbook sounds more
akin to automatic writing or stream of consciousness, in which one thought or
event leads to another and another, and so forth. Even so, surprisingly it
snags reality, or what should be
reality, with its motion. The book’s pivot is on a found bus transfer “haggard & torn/ like it had gone
through the war.” “Vice – Tom Cusses” begins as a blurry war poem – from the
front lines a death – scratches its (the poem’s) head in incredulity (“numbers
aren’t substitutes for words”), shifts to hey, “Here’s my bus” and finally
transfers as a call and response.
This
transfer You
have survived
is
valid your
first experience
for
the day only survived
the
deception
of
bus transfers
Or,
to put it another way: “for one day only/
you must live & die.” Once McCarthy gets rolling he becomes rhythmic. In “Calgary transit” he verily
sings “Miss the bus/ Miss the cab/ Miss the show/ Miss the internet/ MR
Lonely.” After that “062 rant transfer” sounds more like a chant than a rant,
and “90 minutes” brings us back onboard: “Red sock/Red house//Red rock/ Red
route.” This is fun writing devoid of preciousness and seriousness. It’s
exactly what you’d want to read riding any city’s public transit.
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