“At the multi-laned intersection to the M20 I listened to Alanis singing her heart out about the pain of isolation and loss and I burst into tears in an Oxford Green Jaguar X Series 3 litre car.”
Like missiles, these poems shoot out into the world seeking light and warmth from out of the darkness of illness. Peter Carr’s poetic voice mirrors the fast-paced juxtopositions of a life previously spent in an internationalist world of commerce. Wide-ranging and uncompromising, ironic, darkly comedic and sometimes bitter, and populated by the unconventional, the displaced and the lonely, the collection is nevertheless bound together by the realisation and need of the importance of human encounter, companionship and love in an illusory and earth-shifting world. – Maggie Harris
Peter Carr died in Hawkinge House nursing home at 7.15pm on Saturday, October 1, aged 56. A philanthropist and lover of art, music, language and literature, he touched the lives of many in extraordinary ways.
Shane Rhodes - editor of Wrecking Ball Press, and a good friend of Peter - is writing a personal piece about Peter which will appear here soon.