4.0 out of 5 stars
'an infant is born without feet', February 2, 2011
This review is from: Selected Poems (Hardcover)
I've been reading two recent Wave titles concurrently (I belong to their subscription service) and it's an eye-opener. Mary Ruefle is the older of the two. Her early work is a bit effete (japonaiserie; too many birds) but better that than jejune (eg John Bradley's You don't know... see review) but by the last quarter I was really fired up (see poems on p116, 121, 127, 132, 139) - now I shall have to read the whole darn thing again!
The other book, which I finished first, was Michael Earl Craig's Thin Kimono (see review); this is a slimmer affair, though substantial enough as slim volumes go, and I didn't get into it till 2/3 in. Hmm... BUT THEN the last 1/3 totally grabbed me (boom! boom! boom!) and goddammit I DID go back and read it again - and it's ALL GOOD; I give you p43, 69, 93 - but there's not a dud or duff in the pack. Guess you gotta keep plugging away...
So - double whammy. But these poets aren't alike, other than being 'of their age'. I would distinguish them as follows: Ruefle is sad, and lyrical, and serious (cf her echo of Prufrock 'I can hear the ambulance singing' p132); Craig is tender, and whimsical, and serious; they meet in their common seriousness (easy to mistake in Craig's hilarious surface - see p85, 97)
Since I've quoted Ruefle above, I can't resist a sample (not typical!) from Craig, despite the danger that it might put some people off. (Sorry, Mary - but hey, you're stablemates, right?) This is a complete poem from an exquisite sequence of 8-liners
Fat? Maybe.
A grape candy melts on my tongue.
The gangrels samba through the sacristy.
I have this ferocious feeling.
The glacier scoots in an inch.
An ivory beak stabs sharply at my dream.
Varieties of corn rain down,
Violating the autumn.
But the rest of the collection is generally more user-friendly than that. And, yes, I had to google 'gangrel' too (and was disappointed to find it wasn't made up); but that line has an Eliotelian panache, don't you think? 'The prayer of the bone on the beach...' Line 6 and lines 7-8 too. Can this man do no wrong?
But I'll finish with another Ruefle quote (from p35): Who wanted 'feet' [sorry - can't do italics!] in the first place?
NB Wave also reprinted James Tate's stunning stories last year. Subscribe now! Great poets need great readers!!!
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