Banango Lit

BY: DIANA SALIER  

edward mullany has written my new favorite love poem:

    the poet envisions his death
   
    it is true i love
    you more each

    day, you for
    whom i’ve never

    written a love
    poem.


i first met edward last week in an abandoned apartment on haight st. in san francisco for a house reading. he was very tall and soft-spoken. he read poems about hairdryers and dying and dogs and men and our general existence.

i met him again in portland one week later at a reading/house party at donald dunbar’s house, by the alcohol table, alongside his lovely wife anjali, to whom If I Falter At the Gallows is dedicated.

i bought his book at powell’s and read it in one sitting at a coffeeshop back in my neighborhood in san francisco. the poems are as quiet and unassuming as edward. it’s like what they say about people’s dogs mirroring their owners. only i don’t think people’s poems shed on the floor and whine for food.

this book, which is split into parts I and II, is like a sunday morning in a quiet town with or without someone you love reading the newspaper next to you.

small, mundane things happen. sometimes no one notices.
big, important things happen. sometimes no one notices them.

i’m no longer surprised that edward mullany isn’t on facebook. his poems have a pastoral quality that dims the noise of the modern world.

they’re refreshing. read them.