A Hermit Has No Plural by Gabor G. Gyukics, Singing Bone Press.
A Hermit Has No Plural, a collection of poems by the great Hungarian writer, Gabor G. Gyukics, is wonderfully unique. It is a surrealist vision of a world in motion, almost perpetual motion, but it is also a semi-realistic account of the author’s various homes; his native country and the places he’s lived in for a while. By realistic, I mean that he mentions the woods, the barmaids, the ants and the sinister seaside cliffs he has observed during his journey through the world. As for surrealism, these lines are from his poem, ‘stuck in an elevator’:
‘two pages remained empty by accident nocturnal faces change vanity chimes endangered species live on…’
And this poem continues:
‘…oh, darling the gum is swollen in the mouth optical green wire stretches from the ankle up to the skinless hip its quiet now’
Gabor was born in Budapest, travelled to Holland, and then moved to the United States; that is, to a beatnik version of the United States. He was, and is, a man on the move. He says: “…the house rises up for / the fresh faced wind / to fly it / to another place.’ And: ‘…during the tail-wind / the headwind / pushes you back / only the motion remains.’
He is now back in Hungary, and many of the poems in the first third of the book are in their original language on the right side, with translations on the left.
Here is an example of one of his Hungarian poems:
chairs szekek these chairs should be rearranged she said who would do that I said you came her answer as she sat I moved the other chair closer to hers.
To read the original, you have to buy the book!
I should also mention that love plays a large part in his poems, as you can see from ‘chairs.’ the poem quoted from above. Here are some lines from the poem, ‘other people’s images’ on page 44:
it’s the coldest time of the night a naked kiss lands on your lips I enter your mind I live in your head
And from ‘still life in color,’ a poem that’s both erotic and surreal:
as the red girl laughs her teeth out of her immigrant kissed mouth volatile sheet rock drops copulate with a matted hair lock on the mattress
Many of the poems in A Hermit Has No Plural appeared in numerous small press journals and magazines, online and off, including: Big Bridge, the Brooklyn Review, The Café Review, Cups, the Huffington Post and MadHat Lit. I highly recommend it!