Fallacies of Motion
by William Nichols
These poems were taken from a diary of poems and sketches kept over forty years. In retrospect they have a repeating pattern of awareness and lack of awareness, of uncomfortably being in society and more comfortably slipping back to be in nature. When analysis fails, as it always does, the poet slips back again inside his skin. It is a journey to no place except home.
|Dimensions||9 × 6 × .375 in|
William Nichols is a public policy consultant based in Edmonton. Born in Moose Jaw, his travels have always brought him back to the prairies. Poetry is a counterpoint to the words he produces for business and government. When words fail he likes bird watching and woodworking.
William’s muse is dyslexia. Though his is a mild disability, it creates a continual tension between the mind, the eye and the page. A printed page can have as many possibilities as a blank one, as the letters slowly swim into words, possibilities are discarded, and meanings emerge. In reverse, the idea can come clear before the words to express it. Language stays fresh and always potentially treacherous. The technical precision required of regulatory writing is in contrast to the emotional clarity he seeks in his poetry, although each has certainly contributed to the other.
William Nichols calls his mild dyslexia “his muse” in the notes to his <em>Fallacies of Motion</em>, thus giving a name to the wonky, occasionally sublime, poetics that trademark his civic-minded observations.
~ Globe and Mail
Here is contemporary wisdom in verse. Imagine ancient Solomon revived and even more cynical, witty, precise, and scathing. These lyrics are delightfully arch and delicately stern. They range from wry takes on technology and white-collar conundrums to introspective riffs on grief, loss and the compensations of travel.
~ Jury, Dektet 2010
William Nichols has created a series of poems here that challenge readers to re-examine their views of the most fundamental of relationships – those between us and all living things. Whether they are in our human existence or in the natural world surrounding us, the reader will soon recognize the broad convergence employed to appreciate the transitory nature of all living things. Human pack rats, stray dogs and damaged, doomed shorebirds find their way into our consciousnesses. Nichols’ poems are neither obsequious nor sentimental. His long- practiced objectivity finds its way through the inner worlds of reactionaries, bureaucrats and magpies, as he shares this storehouse of observations. There is a long vision to this work.
~ Dean Morrison McKenzie