About Time

From acclaimed author, actor, and singer-songwriterDavid Duchovny, a deeply personal, existential, and insightful debut poetry collection DAVID DUCHOVNY'S DEBUT BOOK OF POETRY covers a range of intimate themes, in particular his relationship with his father, who looms large throughout the work. Here, Duchovny’s typically clever wordplay distills to an emotionally impactful portrayal of what the author holds most dear. His approach to poetry is beautifully encapsulated in his introduction: Poetry is not useful. And that is exactly why we need it. It reminds us of two important things: our ultimate lack of agency (unpopular to say, I know) and our inability to say anything plain, our inability to capture what it means to be human with the imperfect tool of words; we come face-to-face with our shadow selves, for in the end we will all die and be forgotten, and come away with nothing, nothing in the way of utility anyway, no talking points, no bullet points, no propaganda, no resolutions, no policy, no knowledge. If anything, maybe we remember a few lines . . . something like a pop song from the collective unconscious, something like wisdom . . . You see, I wanted to say it plain, but out comes that torrent of modifiers and adjustments, denials, double negatives, shading, stabs at wit, backpedaling, playing at capturing the lightning. Maybe this time. Maybe that’s what a poem is—that glorious feeling of Maybe this time I’ll get it right. If that’s the case, it seems a worthy enterprise to me. With About Time—perhaps his most personal work to date—Duchovny (author, actor, singer-songwriter, filmmaker, podcaster) continues his journey as one of our most prolific creators. Front cover photo © Stefan Sappert Duchovny’s efforts at achieving such clarity range in this collection from laser-sharp, single-sentence poems to emotionally sweeping ruminations. With About Time—perhaps his most personal work to date—Duchovny continues his journey as one of the most prolific creators of his generation. Front cover photo © Stefan Sappert