Oyston, David - Poems From The Sideshow
Confession. Poetry isn’t really my bag. I lost my appetite for it decades ago. Likely my age; time dwindling by the moment, and me urging the poet to get to the damn point already.
This collection makes for an exception, however. For me. And for those who are familiar with the Broodcomb Peninsula.
The sideshow feels like a midpoint between the settlements and the caravans, with a sizeable population of geeks, gaffs and assorted misfits.
Initial section strolls from tent to tent, wagon to wagon, meeting individuals. Characters. And yes, this is poetry. This leisurely introduction is approximately half the book.
Next, a rollicking wedding. Where bashful clash with the obnoxious. Guests invited, as well as the menacing interloper. Poetry notwithstanding, on the Peninsula, danger is ever a breath away.
Following the reception, there is dispersing. Guests scatter and page after page is crammed with fragmented dialogues and thoughts. Readers who have read sections in order will be on surer footing, in that you might differentiate voices. Navigating each and every page here might intimidate.
Did I enjoy this? Not altogether. Oh, this is heady stuff. Again and again, however, my mind drifted back to the settlements, to the caravans.
One stanza lingered with me long after I closed the book:
“Always distrust the perfect smile
Crook tooth, split tooth, yellow canine
or lost incisor is more honest
than the faultless light of a white smile.”
I immediately thought of what passes for our modern smile. The rictus grin. Teeth clenched, lips raised in an ironic sneer. The social tease of the beauty contestant, the prostitute, the politician. Disdain cloaked by warmth. Frauds and fakes. While the spectators, gullible fools, are so often you and I.
Be safe out in the Wide World, friend.