Dharmavadana Birdmen and Astronauts 15 January 2026. 35 pp. ISBN 978-3-901993-87-9 (= PSPS 41) £9.00 (+ 3.00 p&p), €9.00 (+ 3.00 p&p), US$ 12.00 (+ 4.50 p&p)   "Birdmen and Astronauts reads like a sequence in which each poem coheres into a larger whole that expresses the unique colourings of an individual life. Without insisting on a single narrative thread or justificatory story, the poems do their work deftly without exaggeration or self-pity. A picture is painted (in quiet confidence) and left to stand. Evocative and seemingly compendious, despite its brevity, Birdman and Astronaut is one of those poetry pamphlets that give the reader just enough: enough company and companionship – sadness and joy, sex and tragedy, childhood, mothers, aunts, lovers and uncles – to encompass a singular life." Maitreyabandhu "Dharmavadana’s carefully chosen words offer us vignettes of boyhood and manhood, snapshots of miscommunication but moments where connection brings deep joy. Exploring masculinity, nature and grief, these poems are both disconcerting and tender and continue to resonate after reading." Lorraine Mariner "This debut pamphlet holds two weights in admirable balance – a collection of deftly and economically drawn characters and incidents presented in fine-grained, telling detail, and a compelling series of half-told narratives freighted with half-revealed emotion, allusive, elusive and melancholy. Both aspects speak to each other in a conversation that deepens on re-reading. Throughout, the language and syntax are clear and uncontrived allowing us to enter without fumbling at tricky locks and follow its journey from childhood, through youth, never safe or complacent, to a complex, at times almost hallucinatory, maturity." Kathy Pimlott

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Table of Contents

Excerpts from Birdmen and Astronauts

Birdmen of London

No one knows they are birdmen.
No one knows any men
have such feathers or crests.

They reveal only to each other
in alleys and the backs of bars
the gorgeous plumage they hide

in daylight. But look at their eyes:
garnets that come alive
when they feel safe.

In their grief the birdmen
cover each other with their wings
and whisper secrets, longing

for children they cannot have.
They know the down of their breasts
can suckle any creature

and the sorrows that pour from their throats
are lullabies to soothe all ache.
They dream of the day

when they will be understood –
and rise on wings of fire
above a city amazed.
 

Linen

The bed sheet flaps on the line.
Drawn to its pegged-out smile,

I finger for patches
unscoured by detergent,

rub my nose in the white
for any musk of lives.

In hope of remains
to satisfy my skin,

I rummage my face
through wrinkles and ripples,

snuff creases and folds
for trapped layers of joy.

But what seeps from the cotton
is only the bright scent

adverts promise
in the sun’s cleansing shine.
 

Reviews of Birdmen and Astronauts