What are we thinking at any given moment? What happens to a thought as
that moment, on its way to oblivion, collides with its successor?
Rambunctious, witty, joyous, and bittersweet, drift is an investigation
conducted by a truly unfettered imagination. In fluid, sparkling
cadences, Kevin Connolly's poems let the mind's downtime have the stage
for a change -- the desert sky transformed; Spring Break as viewed by
passing skipjacks; narratives of danger and dream narrative; a
meditation on the business end of a sea cucumber; figures of history
disfigured and left to wander the consumer grid -- such are the entirely
odd, entirely current events in Connolly's world, a realm that stands at
an acute angle from the place we normally live in but which we all seem
to drift into. As one of Connolly's own high-voltage sonnets states,
"what stops the heart starts the world." In drift's constant
juxtaposition of abundance and loneliness, we hear what it is to
confront a new century, having quite likely failed during the last.
We're reminded, by a voice unlike any other on the Canadian landscape,
that our solitude is painful yet precious.