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Without Compass
Through recurring dreams of grandeur, self-sabotage, and defeat, Benjamin Miller's collection Without Compass explores the desert margins between faith and emptiness, between "desire and its counterfeits." Carved down, elliptical, the poems seek "the perfect flaw" with which to "cruel you to thought." From behind the "veil and doubt" of the lyric voice, they lead us in pursuit of the possibility of belief.
76 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 2014
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
February 23, 2015
There's an ardency and an urgency to these voyages of the human soul as it encounters faith, doubt, joy and longing. The language of these poems fits like a young skin: smooth, playful and resilient. There's no flab; just lean, muscular lyric poetry that proceeds not through indirection and metaphor but through clear, concise notation of mood unburdened by self-consciousness of craft or subject. Listen to the simple language of "It Rained Tonight":
It Rained Tonight
and so I thought of you
somewhere under a streetlamp
your attention elsewhere--
upward, toward the ticker tape
of rain, halted
as by flashbulbs, lightning
in your eyes, your hair, your
hands holding the umbrella
upside down, forgotten,
so it falls, too heavy with the water.
Miller has a collector's eye; he is the sculptor who carves only what he craves; he is also a man of significant engagement with the questions of belief and doubt. "But if illusions offer comfort," Miller writes, "it is this: I do not need it." Perfectly at home in the workshop of the mind's eye, Miller is nonetheless capable of discarding all the tools and making a poetry refreshingly new and exciting in its discoveries. A great book because it has beneath its skin not only a strong heart but a strong, enduring sensibility.
It Rained Tonight
and so I thought of you
somewhere under a streetlamp
your attention elsewhere--
upward, toward the ticker tape
of rain, halted
as by flashbulbs, lightning
in your eyes, your hair, your
hands holding the umbrella
upside down, forgotten,
so it falls, too heavy with the water.
Miller has a collector's eye; he is the sculptor who carves only what he craves; he is also a man of significant engagement with the questions of belief and doubt. "But if illusions offer comfort," Miller writes, "it is this: I do not need it." Perfectly at home in the workshop of the mind's eye, Miller is nonetheless capable of discarding all the tools and making a poetry refreshingly new and exciting in its discoveries. A great book because it has beneath its skin not only a strong heart but a strong, enduring sensibility.
February 24, 2015
Engagingly Beautiful! I Loved It!
May 6, 2014
Ben was my once my classmate (caveat alert!), and I always think of him as a dedicated teacher. He taught composition while we were both students, and later when I had my own courses, he was quick to share helpful suggestions and resources. What a treat it was to sit down with this collection to realize he’s teaching here, as well. The lesson is one of perception, paying as much attention to the outside world as to the interior landscape. Like any good lesson, this one is given with a combination of confidence and humor. My favorite poem (it was hard to pick a favorite) is “On the Margins of the Portable Country, which ends, “I’ve started marking up a manual of dangers. / You have not all been selected.”
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews