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What a disappointing
book, and by a poet I
like too. It's as if she had nothing to say, but
still wanted to write and so names five or six
different flowers in each poem thinking that
will help. Or it seems like (at least there are
hints that) something really big (and not, in
fact, nothing) was going on in her life, only it
was too chaotic to fit into a poem or series
of poems, so she stuck with the flowers
because she really wanted to write and have
some measure of control over this big
something or nothing (whichever it was)
that she couldn't talk about, yet she didn't
really want to talk about the flowers either,
not with something else on her mind. And
so the book ends up being of interest more
for what it doesn't say yet seems to want to
say rather than what it does say. And I
guess I can understand that, having been
there myself.
--Elaine Equi
(Published in Friendship With Things, Berkeley: The
Figures, 1998.)
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Pulsar
by Gene Frumkin
Poem
For My 60th Birthday
by Dick Allen
Now
That I Know What Feverfew Looks Like
by Elaine Equi
South
America
by Tom Raworth
Words
of Wisdom
by Mark Pawlak
The
Art of Poetry
by Bobby Byrd
Some
Anthropology
by Michael Heller
The
Reality Executive
by James V. Cervantes
Those
Sunday Afternoons
by Charles O. Hartman
The
News from Mars
by Wendy Battin
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