Greg Wrenn's debut collection opens with a long poem in which a man undergoes surgery to become a centaur. Other poems speak in voices as varied as those of Robert Mapplethorpe, Hercules, and a Wise Man at the birth of Jesus. Centaur skitters along the blurred lines between compulsivity and following one's heart, stasis and self-realization, human and animal. Here, suffering and transcendence are restlessly conjoined.
Fantastic and unsettling poems, especially the title sequence and "Virus." I'm mesmerized by Wrenn's diction, which, like the central figure, is also often grafted--unexpected words joined in fruitful ways.
'Centaur' is a ferocious, haunting collection. The title, indicating as it does, a creature half-man, half-beast, torn between two opposing natures, acts not only for the lengthy opening poem, but as a perfect metaphor for the whole of the work. Suffering and sensuality, dizzyingly tender, disturbing and violent, all the crazy paradoxes of our humanity may be found here. Quite impressive.
These gorgeous, wild poems were a total pleasure to read. Greg Wrenn writes beautifully. There're lots of delicious surprises in these poems, plus truly compelling depth and emotion.
Modern, imaginative, forward and well-executed images executed in narrators that vary from a centaur and Hercules to Mapplethorpe and e-converstaions. Wanted more upfront gay content (It's there; effective when present.) Poetry that you work at; not transparent (in a good sense.)