Mesopotamia, by Bruce Meyer

We all lose something, yet the temptation is to hold on to our pasts, our places and what those things have meant to us. That is what paradise is all about. It is the tension between what we love and what we desire. Mesopotamia celebrates the joy and pain of our ideas of paradise.

The fruit Adam ate in paradise was pathos. It was also happiness. And though he may have tasted it then, we still hunger for it. In Mesopotamia, Bruce Meyer explores the various paradises that are both lost and found in the world of the present and the realms of the past. Meyer takes his readers on a voyage of discovery in search of that essence of humanity that is never quite cut off from us, no matter how aflame the angel’s sword may be.

Praise for Mesopotamia:

Bruce Meyer’s Mesopotamia is poetry so choice as to emulate the elegance of classical Greek verse and the wisdom of Hebraic Bible proverbs. Meyer is so adept in his art, the art vanishes, leaving only music. Incisive, exquisite, and thus memorable, each line is well-tuned, by this impeccable intelligence, this fearlessly feeling poet.—George Elliott Clarke

Beginning with the stunning title poem ‘Mesopotamia,’  which turns each succeeding couplet to a new simile for passing time and regret, Bruce Meyer again proves himself to be one of our most memorable Canadian lyric poets. In this latest collection Meyer demonstrates his sorcery of craft.  Smooth and assured, mature and playful, occasionally downright eccentric, Meyer gives us casual tours de force of villanelles and triolets with the technical ease of a champion skater.   And all this is in service of the quietest of subjects:  a father, a daughter, a mother, and family peace.  A butterfly, a postage stamp, a hummingbird, a horseshoe crab, a crack in the ceiling, these tiny images open the largest of concerns:  love and death, the great subjects of lyric poetry.—Molly Peacock  

Having been immured by millions of mediocre, sufficient and even excellent poems in my lifetime, I was surprised to experience as clichéd a thing as "shivers" in reading Mesopotamia. Form melds with content, seamlessly; content finds treatment that is sagacious and feeling. Wisdom is conveyed with grace. And the word “beautiful” finds aptness as a response. Lines that, repeatedly, I found myself coveting; word combinations that suggest titles because they elliptically express one's thoughts of a lifetime.  Finally, this privileging book only inspires gratitude that a compassionate voice raises itself in virtuosity to speak the dilemma of our times in the texture of hope.—Pier Giorgio di Cicco

Bruce Meyer is as comfortable and at home in Dante’s company as he is in his parents’ attic.  Here are poems both artful and familiar, thoughtful and charming, confident and rich with a warm humanity.—Adam Sol

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