Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Ugly and beautiful change place in Leif Holm Strand’s new book – Sveriges Radio

The first suite of four poems in the new book is the most beautiful thing I’ve read in a long time. Salted femradingar, fragile and strong, sublime in a horror romantic tradition, that in läsfåtöljens secure embrace take part of so much impending doom, like this:

Good to rest secure behind glass

Outside, the night recycled

from a broken darkness acrid gas.

perhaps to help the body remember,

maybe to sleep. May I be?

Leif Holm Strand is fantastically good at shaping vulnerability and fear, creeping malaise, hot. One reason for that is, I think, that dictated the building constantly swaying and delicious. Poetry Rows run out before they should, and ends with the “wrong” word, strange, private references show up, what you thought would stretch to a suite interrupted after four poems, to be succeeded by something completely different.

The unexpected happens all the time, until it ceases to feel unexpectedly. And I lose interest in the text. Until something in return takes hold.

It’s hard to compare Holmstrand books with regard to quality. The ones I’ve read is always good and some bad. And sometimes the bad good. The ugly beautiful. There is of course a conscious aesthetic.

If there is a moral to extract from Holmstrand poetry as it is about solidarity with the deviant and the ugly. The little sloppy and shapeless, as I said a condition for the feeling of discomfort and vulnerability will appear. And the experience of beauty in the fragile structure.

In this way, one can say that Holmstrand poem portrays the experience to a strength always also a weakness, and vice versa.

Life is full of the last days. The last day of the holiday, the last day okysst, körkortslös last day, last day homeowners, and finally the last day alive. It’s probably the last day Holmstrand book title mainly refers to, or perhaps even better the day after the last day.

The last poem in the book is long and flowing and named We let go, there are childish enough a stem that “no dead hands longer takes,” and then, citat















Osv. additional 192 enordsradingar. Since the last day out.


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