A Friendly Little Tavern Somewhere Near the Pleiades by Buff Whitman-Bradley

$22.99

 

There are ants in this book, ants who engage in philosophical discussions. There are cows fretting that their pasture is flying away into the night. There is an ecclesiastical woodpecker, a shiny new Swiss Army knife, and an old man contemplating his aging. The poems in this new book by Buff Whitman-Bradley often head off in surprising directions as the poet looks at events and occurrences from his daily life in ways that are slightly askew, ways that take him deeper into the ordinary, the normal, the commonplace, and reveal them to be rich, complex, and meaningful. There is humor in this book, there is delight and sadness and a deep appreciation of this startling and wondrous life.

 

 

Description

A Friendly Little Tavern Somewhere Near the Pleiades

by Buff Whitman-Bradley

Full-length, Paper

List: $22.99

979-8-88838-791-7

2024

Buff Whitman-Bradley’s poetry has appeared in many print and online literary journals.  His latest book is And What Will We Sing? (Kelsay Books). He podcasts his poems at thirdactpoems.podbean.com. He and his wife, Cynthia, live in northern California, close enough to three of the granddaughters to have plenty of rip-roaring good times.

Buff Whitman-Bradley is a poet of life’s little moments, of nature, and in earlier volumes, of political poems that rage with compassion. One of his previous collections, At the Driveway Guitar Sale: Poems on Aging, Memory, Mortality, is a book of swan songs, but songs from a swan that isn’t much interested in pathos, whining, or tragedy. This swan shrugs its extravagant wings at mortality and sings its songs with grace, wit, economy, a perfect ear, and understated profundity.

In this new volume, A friendly little tavern somewhere near the Pleiades, the poet continues making us laugh and sigh, and sometimes gasp in astonishment, with his melancholy, ecstatic, imaginative, philosophical, and utterly charming poems about life, age (old and young), nature, the theological debates of ants, the nectar-besotted revelries of bees, whimsically imagined after-lives, and the poet’s own glee at his little grandaughter’s assessment of him: “He’s a good guy/but he’s really slow.”

 

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