Alastair Reid\u2019s phrase \u201catlas of his curiosities\u201d is a useful key to Allan Crosbie. He is a traveller – both literally and in the world of conscience (he writes of the irony of the fact that he was finishing an Master\u2019s Degree in Peace Studies in the USA during the first Gulf War). There are poems here about peace and war – particularly in Central America where Allan spent a year travelling and working. There are also poems about intimacy and relationship, as well as poems that commentate Scotland and being Scottish. There\u2019s a lot of great writing coming out of Scotland these days, and he\u2019s part of that energy flow. There are also several poems about the Quaker movement – one of which, \u2018From Martha Simmonds Journal\u2019, ends,<\/p>\n
But when I know my portion
\nof the world, or find that bit of broken light
\nin me, I\u2019ll be drops of water, then the rainbow
\npassing through,
\ndreaming its return
\nto white.<\/p>\n
This is, says Douglas Dunn, \u201cbusily sentient poetry\u201d. It makes you think, see, feel; inspires you to journey towards clarity of understanding.<\/p>\n
Michael Mackmin<\/em><\/p>\n The Osteopath<\/strong><\/p>\n I drive stiffly through the rain to Auchterarder The wipers sweep and click like metronomes into a room where a skeleton hangs by the fire. Allan Crosbie was born in Bermuda, but grew up in Scotland. After graduating from St. Andrew\u2019s University, he completed a Masters in Peace Studies at Notre Dame University in the USA during the first Gulf War. He has traveled throughout Central America, including a year working with a community of repatriated refugees in El Salvador and a short spell for the UN Truth Commission in that country. He now teaches English in Edinburgh and lives with his wife Alison in Portobello.<\/em><\/p>\n ‘This poet has a great gift for showing the everyday can also be threatening and disturbing… fine angry poems that carry the reader with them and promise much.’ ‘Crosbie’s work is sure-footed as well as diverse. His is a poetry of both actual and imaginative wanderlust, formally varied and as international as it is Scottish.’ ‘Allan Crosbie’s collection is something of a kaleidoscope. In their shifting perceptions and their many manners, his poems add up to a small atlas of his curiosities. He travels well.’ (The Rialto First Collection Series 2006) Alastair Reid\u2019s phrase \u201catlas of his curiosities\u201d is a useful key to Allan Crosbie. He is a traveller – both literally and in the world of conscience (he writes of the irony of the fact that he was finishing an Master\u2019s Degree in Peace Studies in the USA during the first Gulf War). There are poems here about peace and war – particularly in Central America where Allan spent a year travelling and working. There are also poems about intimacy and relationship, as well as poems that commentate Scotland and being Scottish. There\u2019s a lot of great writing coming out of Scotland these days, and he\u2019s part of that energy flow. There are also several poems about the Quaker movement – one of which, \u2018From Martha Simmonds Journal\u2019, ends,<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":4214,"template":"","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":""},"product_brand":[],"product_cat":[170],"product_tag":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-1889","1":"product","2":"type-product","3":"status-publish","4":"has-post-thumbnail","6":"product_cat-books","7":"product_shipping_class-books","9":"first","10":"instock","11":"shipping-taxable","12":"purchasable","13":"product-type-simple"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product\/1889","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/product"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4214"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1889"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"product_brand","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product_brand?post=1889"},{"taxonomy":"product_cat","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product_cat?post=1889"},{"taxonomy":"product_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product_tag?post=1889"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nwith you beside me reading everything you can
\nabout the First World War. Your right hand
\nrests on my left thigh, dips as I change gear
\nor leaves a sudden coolness there
\non the muscle when you turn a page.
\nI wince and stick my belly out in pain.<\/p>\n
\nuntil I kill the engine and leave them frozen,
\ntwo blackened skulls of herons, or bayonets
\nfixed parallel in the middle of the glass.
\nYou stay there reading as the windows mist
\nand the drips fall in bunches from the oak
\nI\u2019ve parked under and I limp away<\/p>\n
\nThe doctor digs his fingers in my knotted flesh.
\nThe sound of my joints popping is like distant gunfire
\nor splashes tapping on a metal roof.
\nLater, when I slide into the seat beside you,
\nI feel like a stone, coaxed across a frozen loch,
\nthat shoulders through to kiss its lonely twin.<\/p>\nAuthor biog<\/h3>\n
\nAnna Crowe<\/p>\n
\nDouglas Dunn<\/em><\/p>\n
\nAlastair Reid<\/em><\/p>\n
\nISBN 0-9527444-9-X<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"