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103 pp
6 x 9.25
December 2003

Emerging Voices

Misery Islands,
by January Gill O’Neil

Spooky Action at a Distance,
by Howard Levy

My Painted Warriors,
by Peggy Penn

Red Canoe: Love In Its Making, by Joan Cusack Handler

door of thin skins,
by Shira Dentz

The One Fifteen to Penn Station, by Kevin Carey

Where the Dead Are,
by Wanda S. Praisner

Darkening the Grass, by Michael Miller

Neighborhood Register,
by Marcus Jackson

Night Sessions,
by David S. Cho

by January Gill O'Neil

The Second Night of the Spirit, by Bhisham Bherwani

by Joseph O. Legaspi

WE AREN'T WHO WE ARE and this world isn't either,
by Christine Korfhage

Through a Gate of Trees,
by Susan Jackson

Against Which,
by Ross Gay

The Silence of Men,
by Richard Jeffrey Newman

The Dishelved Bed,
by Andrea Carter Brown

The Singers I Prefer,
by Christian Barter

The Fork Without Hunger,
by Laurie Lamon

An Imperfect Lover,
Poems and watercolors by Georgianna Orsini

Soft Box,
by Celia Bland

by Eloise Bruce

by Catherine Doty

Silk Elegy,
by Sondra Gash

The Palace of Ashes,
by Sherry Fairchok

Eyelevel: Fifty Histories,
by Christopher Matthews

by Joan Cusack Handler

So Close, by Peggy Penn

Snakeskin Stilettos,
by Moyra Donaldson

Grub, by Martin Mooney

Kazimierz Square,
by Karen Chase

A Day This Lit,
by Howard Levy

CavanKerry Press LTD.
CavanKerry Press

Eyelevel: Fifty Histories

by Christopher Matthews

Foreword by Sydney Lea

Eyelevel: Fifty HistoriesThe unrootedness of modern life, then, is as patent in Eyelevel as in The Waste Land, save that Matthews’s renderings spare us the least trace of Eliot’s Olympian condescension. His sympathy for the derelict is as great as for the aesthete; his identification is equally with the IBM drone and the trained stage actor; on and on. His grasp of the great vacany left in our collective contemporary souls by some deep and nameless Desire is as sure, as democratic, as heartbreaking as it could ever be. —Sydney Lea

In his own words, Christopher Matthews’s poems “reach the dark things that lie stark beyond” us. In his musical, richly storied poems we encounter, to quote him again, a “mind peeled for the word.” He is the latest treasure to reach these shores from Ireland. —Mark Jarman

Here is an authentic voice, and an important one. Christopher Matthews has a wide range of referents and an impressive flexibility of diction; these fifty parts cohere into an enlarging whole, and the story his histories tell is both humane and fierce. There are many masters echoed here, and an adept manipulation of cultural relics, as well as a forward-facing and ”eyelevel” scrutiny of what will come. It’s as though Browning were green again. A genuine poet, and a rewarding read. —Nicholas Delbanco


Christopher Matthews
was born in Donegal, Ireland and grew up and was educated between that country and England. He took his bachelor’s degree at the University of Ulster and obtained a PH.D from the University of Durham: its subject was Ezra Pound. His poems have appeared in The American Scholar, Crazyhorse, The Dublin Review and other journals. He currently teaches literature to undergraduates in Lugano, Switzerland.




He mops at his eye, late March, where it's liquefying,
near the nose, that allergy,
                    then stares hard at the poster
freezing a small-girl choir, without pathos,
                    hard, the bane being pollen,
hence the oozing and kitchen towel, no hankie, the
            cheap torn stuff
              pranked with daft slogan
slike 'snort' and 'rump' and 'sneeze'
                and a repeating white-heat moon.