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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Living history,
By alec clayton (olympia, wa) - See all my reviews
This review is from: Veins (Paperback)
I can't even wait to read the whole thing. I got my copy yesterday and read a few of Larry's poems and thought they were great. Larry Johnson mines history, mostly the history of the Roman Empire, and recreates snippets of history that come alive with marvelously chosen words. He does the same with the lives of famous writers and musicians and with memories of his early life in Mississippi. His poems are not easy to read. This book is not for people who are unwilling to bother researching some of his references, and a dictionary may help. Fortunately he includes explanatory notes on some of the history. Now I've read the whole thing. Twice. Some of the poems three or more times. Larry Johnson deserves to be ranked as one of the most intelligent poets working in America today.
5.0 out of 5 stars
A Wealth of Imagery & Imagination,
By
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This review is from: Veins (Paperback)
In Veins, Larry Johnson's debut poetry collection, shades of the distant past are recalled in language that is vivid, precise, and immediate.
The collection offers two parts, "Adrenalin Night" and "Adrenalin Light." Part I is further divided into sections subtitled "Present to 1821" and "AD 406 to 966 BC." In the first section of Part I, the poet pays tribute to literary lights including Weldon Kees, James Wright, Ezra Pound, Lorca, Oscar Wilde, and Keats; but in the poem called "Once," the poet calls upon the reader to witness a moment involving another rara avis--this one literal--an ivory-billed woodpecker shot by the grandfather of the poem's narrator because, as he told the boy, "I wanted you to see it." In the second section of Part I, it is the poet who wants to enable us to see the humanity of individuals whose foibles and frailty often have been obscured by the vagaries of time and history. In "Death of Caracalla" he reminds us that the third century emperor died "while taking a piss--'' and in the haunting "Hadrian at Tivoli" we see the emperor Hadrian in seclusion at his country villa outside Rome, mourning the loss of his beloved eromenos, Antinous, whom Hadrian deified after the youth drowned in the Nile. The poet allows a slave to speak from his grave of ashes beneath Mt. Vesuvius in "Red Skeletons of Herculaneum," explaining to the lady scientist who now studies him that the child in his arms, whom he tried to shield, was the daughter of his mistress. In Part II, "Adrenalin Light," Johnson evokes the sly Greek poet Cavafy in the eponymous poem: Because of our telephone conversation you are coming at four o'clock to see my kitchen of tri-colored glass. I have not told you that my eyes are as green as that Cretan stone dredged up by a Greek fisherman in 1908, said to be from the stars. . . and that I have no kitchen. Meanwhile, in "Pavane for a Dead Princess," an emperor whose grief is contained and stately observes, Now she gleams small and white. Hermetic Walls protect her from earth's violence, While her energy and meaning Scatter out and out through silence. It is from just such silences, scattered throughout time, that Johnson has gathered meaning, and carried the lost into the light of recognition, for readers who open Veins.
5.0 out of 5 stars
A fine volume, not to be missed,
By Midwest Book Review (Oregon, WI USA) - See all my reviews
This review is from: Veins (Paperback)
Few earn the honor to share their work with the national archives. "Veins" is a collection of poetry from Larry Johnson, a man who has read his poetry in congress. His work is collected from countless decades since 1970, and his experience shines through. "Veins" is a fine volume, not to be missed. "To Lorca": We will not find you/though the afternoon sleeps like Egyptian gold,/though feet may pause over your groin,/though the two moles on your cheek nourish that phlox/and the white snails of your eyes are melted by lime.//What you were is the thirst of an orange tree/the fire of those ants in its roots./What you are will always be whatever we seek.
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