Line after line from ''Threats Instead of Trees,'' the 1974 collection that won Ryan the Yale Series of Younger Poets Award, suggests a harrowed ''I'm speaking again / as the invalid in a dark room,'' ''I'm afraid of marriage,'' ''So close you're defenseless, / you inhale your father's last breath,'' and so on. As in a horror movie, it's as though the speakers in these poems were shot in extreme close-up so that we can't see the threat just outside the frame. ''Threats Instead of Trees'' contains many poems of this kind, ones that recall the anxious utterances of Anne Sexton and the early Mark Strand, as well as a number of more open, discursive poems that look ahead to the narrative experiments of the 80's and beyond...Freud said that love and work are the cornerstones of our humanness. But love by itself comes up short in Ryan's poetry, and work is a subject he doesn't discuss. Poems make life bearable here, especially big long talky poems that include pain and fear but also surprise, joy, laughter, everything human. From the New York Times Book Section, "Moe, Larry and Bertolucci" By David Kirby May 2, 2004 David Kirby is the Robert O. Lawton distinguished professor of English at Florida State University. His most recent book of poems is titled ''The Ha-Ha.''
The author is retired, living near Rochester, NY with his wife. They have one son living in Australia. Four cats and a few ferrets live at home with them where the author writes a blend of lightweight SF & Fantasy leavened with some mystery. Spiced with action, humor and romance, these tales are drawn from a lifetime of memories and wishes.
When I first read this book some 25 years ago, it was ground-breaking in some ways both for poetry and for me--a young man's book filled with longing and death and haunting images and great lines. At the time Ryan was a large figure in American poetry, and God Hunger (his third book) had just come out. Re-reading it now, the glimmers of all that greatness remains, but it feels dated in ways that many peer collections of poetry do not.