Thomas Dooley's first book of poetry, Trespass, was one of five to be selected for publication in the National Poetry Series' open competition; Dooley's was chosen by poet Charlie Smith.
"Separation," the second of the three sections into which the book is divided, is a sequence of 15 untitled poems. Very confessional and often painful, they explore a relationship between the narrator and his male lover: "Our first time back together,/ magnets, my body/ pushed into you and your eyes/ rolled back." The love is deep, but the relationship fails, bitterly: "I keep you/ alive even though I try/ to kill you every day."
The other two sections, also apparently quite personal, address a home, parents and family. These are poems of place and memory. "Ingalls Avenue" deals with a family's house: "the house lit of blue television of snow/ the house where my father got tall/ house of sturdy pipes house a home/ for his sisters." The poem's last lines, which refer to the house, could just as easily describe this collection: "this/ is a closet for tall and small things."
Dooley also records the stuff of childhood--"Cedar Closet," "Warinanco Park," "Aunt Peggy," "Guest Room"--and the selling of a beloved family home: "I look out curtainless/ windows, in a house with rooms/ and closets that never knew to be/ unlived in." Herewith, poems written in sharp-edged, flowing, mostly unpunctuated lines demand to be reflected upon and savored. --Tom Lavoie, former publisher