Anna Gács talks to Géza Röhrig about her new poetry collection.

Admission is free, the book will be available on site, and the author will sign a book.

Géza Röhrig’s nothing-poems strike at the heart, shatter, carry our moments to real and non-existent, real and even more serious places. Every moment is a world. A juva, a deep green black eye, a ‘rectangular puddle’ of traces of an extermination camp. Time does not pass, even if a life is drawn out of a series of songs. Like the Göncöl chariot in the angel-blindfold poems, the life of nothing, of discarded chewing gum stuck in the asphalt.

Some of the songs in this volume are about nothing meeting his mother, only three or four times in a lifetime, but that’s nothing compared to the way that undoubtedly fallen, scarred, brutal mother disowns her son and leaves him to state care in the hands of a discharged foreign legionnaire uncle Yuletide. Nothing is left to be desired, his Mother’s Day toast is a dense torment, and of course the mother is not at rest, hurling painful curses at him, the experience shining through.

If we imagine a line between the stars and life between the poems, it is possible because of the radiance of some secret goodness, in which the Niagara car wash and the waterfall, frozen in two, are the colour and the echo of the same phenomenon.

The nothing-songs can be pre-ordered at: https://bit.ly/Rohrig_Geza_semmike_dalok