Kim Fahner : She, by Kirby

She, Kirby
Knife Fork Book, 2024

 

 

 

Kirby’s newest collection, She, documents the strange ways in which time passes. Each poem is a snapshot of a specific moment, the way a morning might be “gray full of dread” with “Nothing pretty on the corner,” or how a writer’s desk inspires with its “Violet buttercups periwinkle,/fiesta bud vase pink lemonade/frames purple love chunk…fuchsia/glass pickle ornament Dior #753/Suzanne’s owl pendant.” In “Where did the car go?”, the speaker notes the “basil mint thyme balcony/gone to flower clutter constant dread/fresh crisp salad or a pasta with/greens olives.” The poet also conveys a clear sense of place, writing of the “Row of ‘cottages’ along St. Nicholas/one of their favourite streets between/Irwin and St. Mary’s” and marvelling about “how such/quaintness exists but a block off Yonge.” By using such detail, by creating such a strong list of images, memories, and moments, Kirby immerses the reader in the world of She.

The pandemic plays a role in this grouping of poems, and it’s refreshing to see a poet who doesn’t simply avoid writing about it. After all, the pandemic happened, rife with its lockdowns and increased isolation, and affected all of us in terms of how we all move through the world. That period of time has refashioned us all, whether we are brave enough to formally acknowledge it or not. In “26 February 2021,” there’s a reflection on politics: “Government response/to COVID. Am I bitter?/ No. Like yourself, observant.” In “Give me a minute,” the speaker says, “Mask breathing becomes laborious/pause lower it so their nostrils have/direct air only to remember when her/mother had to do the same.” That sense of time blurring during the pandemic is also present in “Weekends never used to be,” as days slide into one other without a necessary calendared boundary.

The way time, and society, changes is also addressed artfully in She. In one poem, the title blends into the start of the piece: “She misses//future thinking/her pre-internet brain.” In “How we got [now] here” and in “To the Newly Certified Grief Counsellor Who Thought My Mother’s Visitation Was Their High School Reunion,” the speaker ponders the inane and illusionary nature of social media. This notion is further emphasized in “Last Licks,” when Kirby writes: “Everything an Event./An insta spot.” Better, She suggests, to take greater care in noting the details of the life we are living each moment—not to dull its ebbs and flows—than to worry so much about producing superficial and highly edited posts and reels. If everything these days on social media is about producing content, then what is being missed is the fleeting nature of life (and time) itself.

She is about managing to get up in the morning, to be strong enough to face the pitfalls and disappointments—to be open, fragile, but to also be tenacious and persistent. To survive. In “What’s that?” a tea bag is compared to a tumor, something bigger than what was expected, a notation to remind us of life’s very temporary nature. In “Kindness,” there is a reflection on wrongly identifying and misgendering someone who has slipped under a bus. Checked on after a fall, the speaker notes a “stranger politely mistaking me for sir.” Then, in poems like “Sun-brewed,” “Middle of nowhere [Ohio],” and again in “Last Licks,” there are references to childhood, to memories and losses that are further underlined by the death of a parent. Time loops backwards and forwards in an ancestral fashion, a vortex of grief and mindfulness—and of our own mortality, as well.

Kirby refines some of the themes and philosophical questions found in previous collections, including thoughts around searching for identity, growing into oneself, the too quick passage of time itself, as well as the desire for connection in a time that often seems so disconnected. What stands out, though—always—is the idea that we should marinate in our experiences, taking note of what makes them bright and brilliant, even through the rougher times in our lives. These poems sing not just of basic survival, but of a flourishing and kind of blooming, too, and that makes She a must-read book of poems.

 

 

 

 

Kim Fahner lives and writes in Sudbury, Ontario. Her latest full collection of poems is Emptying the Ocean (Frontenac House, 2022) and she's just published a poetry chapbook, Fault Lines and Shatter Cones (Emergency Flash Mob Press, 2023). She is the First Vice-Chair for The Writers' Union of Canada (2023-25), a member of the League of Canadian Poets, and a supporting member of the Playwrights Guild of Canada. Kim's first novel, The Donoghue Girl, will be published by Latitude 46 Publishing in Fall 2024. She may be reached via her author website at www.kimfahner.com

Kim Fahner : Poetry is Queer, by Kirby

Poetry is Queer, Kirby
Palimpsest Press, 2021

 

 

 

 

To read Kirby’s Poetry is Queer is to embark on a journey into a fascinating memoir that is a hybrid of genre and style. In some places, it feels a bit like listening to good jazz, as Kirby riffs on those poets who have influenced her work, as well as delves back into her own life. She has “an eye like a camera,” as all good poets should. Throughout the book, the reader senses the wit, pain, joy, wonder, kindness, and compassion that rises up through the poet’s words. Kirby is—as she writes about this when she refers to Mark Strand’s work, too—amazed by the craft itself. Most Canadian poets will know this from Kirby’s work with Knife Fork Book, the wonderful poetry-only bookstore in Toronto that serves as a home place for all poets, as well as through the press that accompanies both Kirby and her store.

Start with “First Lines” and imagine matching line to author, puzzle over them in your own head, knowing that they speak to you from somewhere—from something you’ve surely read before, but can’t quite recall. These voices are woven throughout Poetry is Queer. Cavafy is omnipresent—a poetic north star—but then, like little pebbles dropped in a pond, the poet mentions Ashbery, Jordan, Lorde, Brand, Doty, Bishop, Carson, Nguyen, Rich, Sappho, Vaughan, and Williams.

The re-printed interview with R.M. Vaughan is particularly poignant, given that he’s gone from us now. That conversation is a touchstone within the book, a reminder of how poets and creatives sometimes struggle to be present in a world that can be excessively harsh some days. All these poetic voices make ripples that move outwards towards shore, so that this is not just a memoir, but an homage to poetry and its family tree. Kirby is someone who has read and loved poetry—and lived life—widely and vibrantly.

The rich texture of the book, too, is reflected in its stylings. From prose renderings of memories recalled from childhood—with evocative and nostalgic references to a young boy playing Candyland—to the wonderful abecedarian poem “Queersay,” to the checked off list of  “Bullet Bio,” to the crisp and witty notation that reads “There is but a single success story in my life./I never managed to kill my fairy,” you’ll find yourself turning pages wondering what will come next. That element of surprise, of curiosity, is something that’s compelling and a lot of it has to do with the strength of the poet’s voice. One can only hope that this will become an audio book, as well as a print one.

The sections that deal with how poetry is embodied, for poets, is vibrant and of note. Kirby writes: “Darlin’s, you already cut a fine figure. It’s called your body. I truly don’t care what kind of body, what kinda shape. I care about one thing and one thing only: that you’re here. From the head down (or neck up), you may think you don’t matter, that ‘it’ shouldn’t matter, that you don’t want to be here. From the ground up, you entirely matter.” Later in the book, she steps out with an empowered and confident voice, asking “What fucking country do I belong to? My body is a country. Mine. Like Whitman, my body is a poem that contains multitudes, and poetry has blown me wide open.”  That passion, that intensity, is present throughout the book, a resonant note that repeats itself in a jazz club tune.

The work ebbs and flows, pulling you along in a current. Find yourself smiling and laughing out loud one minute, but then turn a page and read about the horror of how gay men were treated during the AIDS epidemic and know that Poetry is Queer honestly and genuinely documents the poet’s trials and tribulations. Survival is at its core, but there is a flourishing here, as well. Kirby writes: “Possibly the most joyous of things entering my unanticipated sixties is I can be Kirby full-on.” Too, she writes, “I look forward to a genderfluidity not based upon the falsities of what came before it.” As she says, confidently, “You can choose to dance alongside me, relish your fluid body, or not. But this dance is mine.” Here is someone who has truly come into herself, and someone who will not sink, but who will float in that challenging current, learning and growing as she goes.

The remembrances of what it was like to be gay in the early days of the AIDS epidemic are raw ones to read. In these pieces, the poet writes of friends who have died, people who were lovers and chosen family, and of the hatred and discrimination that flourished. She writes: “There’s only now a re-emergence (of sorts) of AIDS writing. I imagine, like myself, it has required some distancing, perhaps now remains, remaining stories can be told.” Poet as witness, yes, but also poet as documentarian and truth teller.

Poetry is Queer is compelling and hard to put down. If you’re a poet in Canada, you already know what Kirby’s done for poetry through Knife Fork Book—with the bookstore and the press—but this hybrid memoir has her opening her life in a vulnerable and brave way, speaking her truth and asking you to consider (and reconsider) your own.

 

 

 

 

Kim Fahner lives and writes in Sudbury, Ontario. She was poet laureate in Sudbury from 2016-18, and was the first woman appointed to the role. Kim's latest book of poems is These Wings (Pedlar Press, 2019). She's a member of the League of Canadian Poets, the Ontario representative of The Writers' Union of Canada (2020-22), and a supporting member of the Playwrights Guild of Canada. Kim can be reached via her author website at www.kimfahner.com