Stands Proud (in a celluloid black and white)

Had my fill of pseudo-urbanity; read a
poet whose cultured profanity is
self-acclaimed at twenty two years –
in awe of the 50’s & 60’s legends, dead,

buried or forgot, as if he’d strode
the same streets and knew their
unseemly habits – but just a little too
well for someone not yet conceived.

Bandied these appellations as license
to kill mythologies about the late
greats whose names are now
household commodities. Shouts

familiar themes in the old ways with
comparable energies; stands proud in
a celluloid black and white as a stark
reminder of our interregnum.

Makes gripping reading. There is a raw
sense of unease, a tearing of skin surfaces
a searing acidity to the words. The
sheer effrontery is refreshing.

What a nerve! And then there is the
originality. Surely he couldn’t have
been there? Surely? Read him, Nick
(n./a.) Gaudio, and see for yourself.
© 7 March, 2007 I.D. Carswell