In Everything We Always Knew Was True, James Galvin portrays the solitude, spectacle, and ruggedness of the rural American West in an unsentimentally vulnerable voice. Galvin’s poems document a communion with landscape, questioning humanity’s ability to cope with losses both universal and deeply personal. This book shares honest and ordinary truths earned by an attentive, compassionate, investigative mind.
Waiting for the New Ice Age to come along
Like a dawdling child from a previous eon,
Waiting for the homeless man to go on home
With his tired cardboard sign that says, Anything helps,
Waiting for a cure, waiting for the closeout sale,
The black sail, a new tarboosh and a tiny red car,
A new, improved, and safer war,
A harmless war, a war that we could win,
A brain tumor in your smartphone, an entitlement check
(Will you please check on my entitlement?),
Waiting for the bank-hack, the backtrack, the take,
Waiting for a calabash, the calaboose, an acquisition,
An accusation, resuscitation from a total stranger,
Waiting for the finish line to explode.