The past does not become a foreign place.
Rather, we who leave it behind have changed
allegiance, have taken up new passports
then are surprised one day, seeking entry
without visa, to be stopped at the border.
From the Afterword:
The main obsession was, and remains, with that moment when we know beyond doubt that something significant has changed, but we are not yet sure exactly what it is. For me, that is the lyric moment —and one that should stand alone, without further explanation.
From the launch speech by John Foulcher:
..a more attractive approach – and a truer one – is for the poet to step away and let the moment be itself. In this way, his or her moment becomes our moment. The more particular it is, the more universal it becomes. This is Martin’s way. Things that could seem insignificant become imbued with substance, the small becomes momentous, whether it be a sparrow slamming into a glass window, a sunset on a daily jog, bees, dung beetles, letters, the cutting of a garden plant, dust, a greeting card, a road in the moonlight, words themselves or children engaged in trick-or-treat. Little things are not little things. His universe knows no hierarchy.
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