Jack Faricy grew up in West Yorkshire. He lived in Thailand and Japan before returning to teach English at the school where he was a pupil.
His poetry is influenced by scrap metal, gravity waves, insects, feet, sewage and anything else that leaves a trace.
He is a regular at the Albert Poetry Workshops in Huddersfield.
His poems have won prizes and been shortlisted in a number of competitions.
Jack lives in Slaithwaite with his family.
In his first collection, Traces, Jack Faricy gives us a wonderfully diverse set of poems, united by a keen eye for unexpected detail and technical skill. He is particularly good at the short, tightly-packed poem where every word and line-break is made to count.
Traces is a collection that satisfies on many levels – the language, the ideas, the use of form, the emotional tone.
I think this is an outstanding collection: dispassionate and clear-eyed observation, presented in a variety of well-mastered verse forms … a gift for long complex sentences which turn out to be perfectly understandable and nicely balanced … admirable assurance.
It falls – tap – on its back,
treads the air, forelimbs fumbling
for dressing-gown armholes, quick-
splits its carapace, flips
and glides on liquid clockwork
to inspect a mote of fluff.
Hydraulics tilt its tiny dome;
antennae start their prying:
fingers in a filing cabinet.
Lean in. It stops dead.
Either it’s malfunctioned
or the operator’s clocked off.
A nail-flick tips it to reveal
articulate pins retracted
in sombre equanimity until
a detonation of black wings
sends it surging up, charging
book-stacks, cork-board, speakers,
screen – a dark electric fuzz
imprisoned in a word-cage
it doesn’t know exists.