on the parabolic. But in all of the poems in this book, to an even greater extent than the work in How Charlie Shavers Died (2001) and the new poems section in Sights Along the Harbor, there is an intensity, an urgency, and a deep, meditative awareness that I find quietly astonishing.
These last poems constitute a sustained act of inspired writing, the passionate outpouring of a brilliantly gifted poet in the face of age, illness, and mortality. Their language is charged with unprecedented gravitas. Yet the work is as edgy as ever, and Harvey never abandons the supple, even jazzy wit that is central to his style. The verbal economy, the razor-sharp lineation, the perfectly timed presentation of detail that are his trademarks — all are subtly at work here, never flashy, still in the service of a poetic sensibility in search of what Harvey always called “the way.” Rabbi Nachman’s vision of the world as a narrow bridge, about which Harvey first wrote many years ago, appears one last time. Yet the fear of crossing that bridge is all but gone, and a great calm and acceptance of the world and its “momentary glory” prevails. And not only of the world, but of its Author. As Harvey declares in “Psalm,”
… before you
close your Book of Life, your Sefer Hachayim,
remember that I always praised your world
and your splendor and that my tongue
tried to say your name on Court Street in Brooklyn.
Take me safely through the Narrows to the sea.
Here then is Harvey Shapiro’s Book of Life, his Sefer Hachayim.
Norman Finkelstein
Cincinnati, Ohio
May 2013
A Momentary Glory
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