Michael Joseph Walsh’s “A Season” is a visionary meditation born out of a spiritual crisis.
As the poems attempt to remake a life within the ghostly limbo into which they’ve fallen — between self and world, sound and echo, the uncanny and the sublime — they work to reweave an intimacy between the past and the present, the “self” and its others, and between the world that remains and a world that’s been irrevocably lost.
Full of strange ecstasies and waking dreams, “A Season” is a self-portrait as blank space, a self-portrait as continual becoming — “a house of mirrors in which every face is perpetually on its way.”