More than half of these 53 short prose poems resemble those in Clary's first book, Who Whispered Near Me
: elliptical, fluent, coy, earnest, and in touch with the things of this world. Clary can be a landscape poet, her landscapes occasionally Irish, but more often a Greater L.A. of freeways, beaches and balconies. She's weakest being topical or anecdotal, best when anthropological, astronomical, personal. Her accomplished rhythms reveal conscious choices among grammatical structures-she knows (most prose poets don't) how rhythm in prose poems is 80 percent syntax. Cutting from one impression to the next in occasionally-Ashberyan, nearly-free associations, the poems contrive new proverbs. Melodrama redeems itself through compact and aphoristic music-"I ask like a spire, busy as lodestone and distracted by wanting to be lightning, fuel"-a sentence that makes a good touchstone: if you like it, you're someone for whom this poet will matter. Copyright © 1996, Boston Review. All rights reserved.
--From The Boston Review