Each of Matt Urmy’s poems is a quiet revelation. I won’t say “breathtaking,” since the reader’s experience of these poems is to gain new air. This is the book I was waiting for, though I didn’t know it. Reading these poems that are rhythmically sure, understated and wise, I feel restored—and I didn’t realize that I was fragmented. Spiritual and physical, the poet’s language is that of a musician, father, and visionary. He doesn’t preach, though. Matt Urmy sings mysteries without trying to explain, celebrating the astonishment that poetry patiently builds:
Time explains itself through small
discoveries—one syllable at a time—
we are born—we pass on—
(“A Measure of the Limits”)
In 2007, Matt's first collection of poems, Ghosts In A House, was published by, Finishing Line Press.
"These stripped down poems by musician Matt Urmy find light where they can, move into the unknown with grace, open and close like flowers, or doors."