Still Some Crazy Summer Wind Coming Through
by Jude Goodwin
Page 62, Still Some Crazy Summer Wind Coming Through by Brian Michael Barbeito
Page 72, Still Some Crazy Summer Wind Coming Through by Brian Michael Barbeito
Still Some Crazy Summer Wind Coming Through
by Brian Michael Barbeito
Review by Jude Goodwin
Still Some Crazy Summer Wind Coming Through is a book of prose poems paired with photography by Brian Michael Barbeito. Published by Dark Winter Press July 2024. 125 pages.
Barbeito’s book offers a compelling blend of visual and poetic observation, showcasing his skill at merging the observational depth of a photographer with the artistry of a poet's craft.
The collection of black and white photos are at one time nature-born and manmade presenting a synthesia of experiences from the lens of one man walking. Forests, water, sky, fields side by side with concrete, bridges, shops and business. And dogs – a common denominator in the joining of humans with the natural world.
I appreciated how, with his prose, Barbeito demonstrates a photographer’s point of view, framing and distance, shifting seamlessly between distant panoramic landscapes and closeup, intimate details. This dynamic approach mirrors the way a camera lens shifts focus, creating layered, textured scenes that draw the reader into both the physical and emotional landscapes.
In a similar way, his photos themselves are a mixture of large viewpoints and close intimate details. And while not ekphrastic in a traditional sense, the book’s images have earned the prose they are coupled with.
One of my favourite prose pieces is:
Ravine and Windows, The Ghosts of Time
I used to be able to see from my window, on the third story, in soft yellow electrical light, from the safety and warmth of such a place, the rainstorms. It would start normal enough, and the water that went in from the industrial grates on the surrounding roads would be too much and overtake the edges and then flow along the paths. Sometimes it climbed a large hill and took down a tree or two, having loosened the root system from what had become mud from the rain. Everything quite opaque but you could make out the houses and tree lines and buildings just a little bit, like a good impressionist painting. The world more like a dream then and add a true dreamer whose head is already in the clouds and there is hardly any ground at all. But it was something. Nature. Rain. And the room is still there. The light. Alone. A GI Joe poster affixed to cork board. A Burger King sticker surrounding a light switch. A Mickey Mouse sticker on a cabinet. Perhaps many old angels and ghosts, both metaphoric/figurative and literal because an actual ghost once visited there. And the rain. On iron gates. Along interlock pavers and steps. Upon railway ties that make retaining walls. Old branches lonesome that don’t talk to one another. Forgotten leaves nobody cares about. Pebbles. Chaparral. Shingles. A table someone forgot to bring in after the summer. Winter sparse for all those things. Rain is thrown by winds against those windows and then slides down across. Tears. Sadness. But nobody ever really listens to the rain. Not really.
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This piece is a good example of Barbeito’s camera-like poetic lens, capturing scenes such as rain cascading on industrial grates and climbing hills to loosen trees, shifting between broad views of the ravine and close-ups of objects like a GI Joe poster, a Mickey Mouse sticker, a forgotten summer table.
His choice of symbols—such as forgotten leaves, railway ties, and lonesome branches—conveys the interplay between humanity’s imprint and nature’s enduring presence. These literary devices elevate the descriptive imagery, turning each poem into a layered exploration of both external and internal worlds.
Barbeito uses personification—“branches lonesome that don’t talk to one another” and “forgotten leaves nobody cares about”—to give the inanimate a emotional depth, turning observation into reflection. The rain stakes its claim on the universal metaphor for sadness, its tears sliding down the window, creating a poignant connection between the external world and internal experience.
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The voice throughout Still Some Crazy Summer Wind Coming Through is introspective, observant, and deeply reflective. It carries a tone of quiet thoughtfulness, as if the speaker is immersed in a personal dialogue with the world around them. This voice often blurs the line between external observation and internal musing, creating a seamless flow between the physical details of nature or objects and the emotions or memories they evoke.
Barbeito’s observational skills and the merging of visual and literary storytelling create a lovely book. The printing is a nice size and the layout, with photo on one page and prose on the facing page, nicely complements the work. The book comprises 47 poems coupled with photos, but you won’t find an index, which challenges the reader to ‘walk with the poet’ through its pages.
While not hardcover, Still Some Crazy Summer Wind Coming Through will make a perfect companion for your coffee table.