Corvix is a collection of poems written by Valentin Per Lind between 1985 and 2021. The theme of the collection is the interrelationship of the three fundamental forces governing life: love, sex and death. The poems explore the themes of ageing and how we anticipate the onset of death; the regrets of missed opportunities as well as the mellowness that age brings. There are also poems dedicated to the joy of love, as well as some social realist poems that explore contemporary issues such as authoritarianism, racism and the arms trade. The author does not flinch from tackling controversial subjects such as obsessive love and suicide. Many of the poems, particularly the earlier ones, are inflected with a heavy vein of mysticism, owing to the author’s involvement in the Wicca in the eighties and nineties, and space is given to several supernaturally themed poems. The poems are grouped into early, middle and late periods which afford the reader to observe the author’s evolving style. The poems are complemented by notes, a few of which are quite lengthy (something which the author plans to economise on in the next edition), and by footnotes explaining unfamiliar words.
Corvix is a collection of poems written by Valentin Per Lind between 1985 and 2021. The theme of the collection is the interrelationship of the three fundamental forces governing life: love, sex and death. The poems explore the themes of ageing and how we anticipate the onset of death; the regrets of missed opportunities as well as the mellowness that age brings. There are also poems dedicated to the joy of love, as well as some social realist poems that explore contemporary issues such as authoritarianism, racism and the arms trade. The author does not flinch from tackling controversial subjects such as obsessive love and suicide. Many of the poems, particularly the earlier ones, are inflected with a heavy vein of mysticism, owing to the author’s involvement in the Wicca in the eighties and nineties, and space is given to several supernaturally themed poems. The poems are grouped into early, middle and late periods which afford the reader to observe the author’s evolving style. The poems are complemented by notes, a few of which are quite lengthy (something which the author plans to economise on in the next edition), and by footnotes explaining unfamiliar words.
Now in this autumn of repose
When Nature draws her breath
Afore the fall of winter’s leaden weight,
And the shadow of the Friend hangs close,
When furtive breezes stir the papers on my desk
And the ivy at my open casement licks,
It is my pleasure to step abroad
Amid the richly tinted world
Of golden lights and blushes deep,
And fall amidst
The cornflake crispness of yellow leaves,
Curled conch-like,
Chrysalid graveyard racked by autumn’s freshsome gusts
That swoop like carrion among the hollows
To waltz and whirl the scabrous skins
Of new-shed trees, mournful marionettes
That jig and jerk on withered wire,
Or tremble with the fretful flutter
Of a broken wing.
Even now, my love, the ivy flames,
Like into the blood-red flares that streak the sky
At eventide,
When birds wing silent to southern lands
And clip the edge of night,
And the cries of children echo far away
In the ringing silence of the ashen dusk.
’Rapt in my ‘loneness,
I tread the wanderer’s unended quest
Through russet realms,
Silent witness to the year’s long breathing out,
Footfalls muffled in seas of burnished tears
Wept in expiation of some unspoken deed,
Settling like the dust of time…
A calendar’s crumpled sheets scattered in the wind;
There us forgiveness in the falling of a leaf.
Oh Nature!
With what infernal beauty dust thou grace the ageing year!
What rest the heart, what sweetness breathe
’Pon souls who more clamorous times
Hath known!
And oft I gaze ‘pon silvered hair and faces etched,
And see in them a deeper glow,
Like unto lanterns softly raying the night;
Youth’s sharp angles smoothed away
Like pebbles rolled long upon the bed
Of some swift stream;
Love claims the space desire hath fled
And peace fills up the mansions of the soul.
Then take me, dark angel,
For I have lived
And filled my saddlebags with spices rich.
Now in this time of rain,
With kindly fingers draw close my lids
And clasp me to thy satin robe
That I may quit this shattered bowl
And walk forever in the garden of my rest.
To call Valentin Per Lind’s book Corvix: Poems of Love, Sex, and Death a poetry collection is a bit of a misnomer in the traditional sense. Yes, there is poetry contained within the covers, but more than that, Corvix is a manifesto on life, death, love, and faith.
With this book, Per Lind offers a retrospective look at decades of creative work, conveniently arranged in temporal groups, so that readers can watch the growth and development of a lifetime’s worth of poetry. In that, Corvix is a fascinating, brave look backwards and forward from someone who does not shy away from the foibles of early work, or the craft that comes with age and experience as a poet. As a poet, as a collection of poetry, there are some true stunners in the over 200 pages of this book.
That said, each poem, whether it requires it or not, is accompanied by explanatory notes ranging from a few sentences to multiple pages, and that can be wearing on the reader. In many cases, these notes offer a fascinating look into the inspiration, context, and philosophy of per Lind as he crafts his verses. Standouts in this frame include “Lucifer Unbound”, “Mirror, Mirror”, and “Song of Shekhinah”. However, other explanatory notes (“Samhain – A Prose Poem”, “By Saddleworth Moor”, and “Ophelia Lies Floating” among the most egregious) range from simply unnecessary to vaguely patronizing.
As a reader, researcher, and critic, I have a firm belief in poets trusting their readers and their work. That a poem should resonate with a reader even if that reader isn’t privy to all of the context, and that a poet should trust a reader’s ability to read context clues, or Google, to understand what needs understanding, and in that some of Per Lind’s notational explanations feel a little distrustful on all sides.
However, when the Notes are good – when Per Lind really gets going about spiritualism, or love, death, history, mysticism, or mythology – they are fascinating. This is a man who has read, theorized, practiced, and professed a range of deeply held beliefs and creeds across the decades, and that shines through in both his poetry and his prose.
Fans of Browning’s dramatic monologues, Poe’s poetry, and the magical realism of Juan Rulfo will all find something to enjoy in this collection.