Angelicus by D.S. Martin

Angelicus by D.S. Martin
Cascade Books, 2021; 104 pp., $11.00

In a 1915 letter, the poet Rainer Maria Rilke wrote, “This world, seen no longer with the eyes of men, but in the angel, is perhaps my real task.” This radical task of shifting to the perspective of an angel to perceive reality with more penetrating eyes is one which Canadian poet D.S. Martin takes on with brilliance in his new collection, Angelicus. In this fifth and most soaring book to date, Martin’s imagination and exquisite poetic skill render a tender and sometimes terrifying world of angels in sixty-four poems, all written from the perspective of angels. I first encountered these angels in the air as I read the collection on an airplane, and I was deeply struck by how these poems float in that space between heaven and earth. These angels inhabit the in-between: they know what we don’t know, yet don’t know some things; they frequent the world, yet also the throne of God. And, being messengers, they have much to tell us.

The collection begins with a proem, “Of Angels Speaking,” in which an angel informs us:

        When we seek to speak    to such
as you    O child of clay    we confess
         limited success
translating on the wing from
         tongues of angels    from flaming radiance
in celestial presence    to your sheenless existence (1)

These angels hail from a vibrant world beyond our ken, yet are impelled to us—to communicate, to help, to guide, to warn, to execute saving graces and judgments. Yet Martin’s angels, though necessarily distant from human beings, also engage deeply with their charges. Here we find poems which sympathize, instruct, chide, scorn, and wonder. Martin so skillfully voices the angel that often the reader stands in the presence of the angel, taking in a startling observation or insight as if announced from above. For example, what reader today would not find resonance in the words, “What whirling unknown    or earthly dissonance/ do you permit to rob you/ of your peace    O descendant of dust?” (“Angel of Comfort   Angel of Peace,” 23). Or believe this truth: “trust us    when we say    there’s so much/ more you don’t get” (“An Angel Questions Our Answers,” 29). Or accept the gentle rebuke, “Your/ world has shriveled    like a winter apple/ to little more    than what you can see/ a windfall     merely a physical thing/ spiked with stubble    & slightly bruised” (“The Angels Watch You Fall,” 31).

The angels in this collection are nuanced and complex; Martin draws on scripture, literature, art, and pop culture references in developing who these angels are, and who they are not. An angel is “a terrible being of fire & light/ able to mete out destruction & death” (“Teen Angel,” 80), yet also merciful and tender, scheming to undermine grief (9), dancing in morning meadows (60), and playing in laundry on the line: “Behind suburban houses    in playful turns/ & fleet flips    we’d slip our arms into shirtsleeves/ or bulge bedsheets like sails for ships/ if ever we wanted to hide in plain sight” (“An Angel Laughs About Laundry,” 8). They tower above humans in knowledge and understanding of what is important, and yet “there are many things/ we do not know” (“Frozen Lake,” 44). They are “merely messengers    & would direct you / with a passion that would consume us like flame/ to burn    & be burned    for the glory of the name” (“Response to Rilke,” 85). Their joy is obedience to “the Triunity’s/ call     & send” (Angelic Manifestations,” 37). Martin considers the line between the divine and the angel in some of these poems, notably when addressing biblical accounts of angels which blur this line, such as when Abraham receives three visitors, “three    disguised as angels    disguised as men” (“Curiously More,” 10).

The form of angels is wisely left to mystery. “Only as physical as we choose to be,” these angels “[alternate]/ between weightlessness     & having the heft/ to wield a fiery sword” (“Birds of the Air” 43). Even when glimpsed, angels can’t be accurately perceived by humans: “When you see us    whirring & conferring/ picking glowing coals    bare-handed     from the fire/ do not fear    The familiar conceals/ as much as it reveals” (“Cherubim,” 68). Likewise, actions taken by angels are beyond our physics: “I won’t explain how molecules/ merely need to be pushed aside” (“Liberating Angel,” 55).

Perhaps the most delightful aspect of this collection is Martin’s astute and sometimes humorous portrayal of the angelic view of humans, ranging from the mundane to the frightening. Angels are by turns charmed and baffled by human customs and contraptions, such as snow angels (44), murder mysteries (79), and the car: “now they speak to cold machinery/ take directions from a disembodied voice” (“An Angel’s View of Automobiles,” 5). Angels are witnesses to the birth of humankind and the beginnings of language, and “Though you’re lower than angels    we delight/ in your inventions    You name every game you play” (“An Angel Marvels at Human Language,” 6). Some angelic observations contain poignant insight: “Only your kind    O child of clay/ struggles with purposelessness    the sorrow/ of how you’ve spent your day/ & what you’ll do tomorrow” (“Not the Winged Messengers,” 7). These angels show mercy, and yet do not hesitate to carry out destruction and even death when warranted:

Have you forgotten    what prophets proclaimed    not known
my flaming sword would separate bone from marrow
& that whatever does not balance    will be found wanting?
Where now is your Mercedes to comfort you    that heap
of crushed metal on the highwayside?”
(“Avenging Angel,” 56)

Martin’s angels make a special point of responding to human art and culture which depict angels, including literary works by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, William Blake, Rilke, Shakespeare, and artistic works by Signorelli and Cimabue. They refer to Milton and Dante with respect, but they get annoyed with erroneous depictions of angels, for example in pop songs and cartoons: “I’m weary of the worn out up above    rhyming/ with love    & dead dolts in cartoons sprouting wings” (“Teen Angel,” 80). Similarly, on watching It’s a Wonderful Life, an angel notes a distinct lack of angelic formidability in Clarence: “No one needs a reassuring    fear not” (“An Angel Watches It’s a Wonderful Life,” 61).

Appropriately, these poems reverberate with a choir of gorgeous word music. Martin is a master of internal rhyme, assonance, consonance, and alliteration, and the sonic patterns in these poems sing. A particularly enjoyable example can be found in “An Angel Marvels at Human Language,” in which an angel delights in the “gurgle & burble” of language-making by humans, “linguistic babblers     jabberers” who come up with “a glorious onomatopoetic cock-a-doodle-doo    drawn/ from every encountered hullabaloo“ (6).

The ingenuity of this collection lies in the fierce yet compassionate way these angels illuminate the limited perspective of humans. “So often you look at something/ without really seeing it” (“This Same Jesus,” 36) these angels declare, and gently point us in the right direction. These stunning poems invite us to wrestle with mystery, beckon us to trust what lies beyond our cramped viewpoint, that “things your senses cannot sense/ still make sense” (“An Angel Denies a Flat Earth,” 72). Angelicus shines as a remarkable poetic meditation on angels, and a memorable message to become our better selves.