From Three at 4:43, and here comes my friend, limping on his heavy
boot, the heel come off. A cobbler's shop appears, and I buy the
black nails, the dwarf's hammer, glue and strapping. I work hard on
it, bending there until he speaks and walks on. But as he is dead,
his voice and step make no sound. In his third book of poems, David
Gewanter takes on wartime America, showing our personal costs and
inextricable complicities. The constructs of our social lives, the
conventions of our political values, the ambitions of our private
fantasies - all these collide comically and tragically. Here, the
far right marries the far left, and the sacred is undone by the
profane. Gewanter's ironic vision pulls together details from
science, history, philosophy, the disappearing dailies, and the
emotional life of an engaged and singular mind into poems on the
move with tense rhythms, rich correspondences, and daring hairpin
turns. "War Bird" gives the lie to the shining moral complacencies
of the homefront. Unsettling yet radiant, this collection is a book
for troubled times, for what Whitman called in '1861', our
'hurrying, crashing, sad, distracted year'.
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