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74 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1996
I love the drops of rain that stammer down the fire escape,Later in the poem, the mystical elements are drawn even further--"The wind won't celebrate your great jihads. // But I love how the wind cries Mary, / so for me there may always be a small room"--although it never becomes obtrusive. I think that he could play up the moments of sparkle and certainly of mystic influence further without obtrusiveness or detraction from sense, but I suppose better too little than too much.
the second cousins of history, as slyly incestuous as all second cousins.
Joe Reth lives below, a commercial sign painter,
wife & two boys, the entire family of Reth
hunkers down there
and hangs on to each day
as a stuttererer might to a frothing, seductively multisyllabic
concoction. Non, non, they aren't history,
neither the first fragrant days of the planet
nor the last of collapsing stone.