How does all this fit together and work so well? Zany, tender, surreal, curious, imaginative. How do these poems sound conversational and/or informative while taking such abrupt shifts in scene/tone/angle so seamlessly? Poems entitled "They Wash Their Ambassadors in Citrus and Fennel" and "Thomas Jeffersons's Garden of White Machines." A sense that this language sees, opens and cuts through, maybe sometimes victimizing/stranding the poet. A wide range of emotions and of questions, but I want to got there, a net to fall up from. "The doctor's yard is full of bones/ and the dream-work is just a kind of golfswing, by father said." It amazes and encourages me that a book as avant and energized as this won a university press competition.--dr
This review originally appeared in TapRoot Reviews #2,
Contact the editor, luigi-bob drake, at Burning Press
Copyright Burning Press 1993, 1995.