Klappentext

In The Vicinity David O'Meara gives us a new kind of cityscape, one that brings its unseen, and usually unsung, materials to the foreground. Brick, concrete (that not-so-silver screen / our walk-on parts are posed upon), glass, steel, wire: they step boldly from anonymity into fresh focus, backdrops goaded into stardom. Full of casually worn wit and humour, often using intricate forms that deftly reflect their subjects, these poems probe our conventional attitudes while walking us down present or remembered streets ? ?Some-such Avenue / Rue Saint Whatever.
A red brick wall, framed
in timber beams and mortar,
collects the last gold of November warmth
on this lit morning.
It hasn't rested, though idle all these years.
A brick wall is stoic toil.
Compare one to your mother.
?from Brickwork
'Let / how I loved to be here / not change, ' David O'Meara says, almost under his breath, in one of the stirring, subtle cadences he is perpetually discovering. The Vicinity wanders and wonders, seeking a possible home, and along the road it notices, savours, questions and praises every sight and sound, from a steel vertex to an old poster for a long-gone ska concert. Paradoxically, in his 'fog of love, homelessness' O'Meara's innovative mastery of form and rhythm creates perfect, if fleeting, homes for the spirit at every step on these restless streets. -- A. F. Moritz