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What the Soul Doesn't Want
In her newest collection, Lorna Crozier describes the passage of time in the way that only she can. Her arresting, edgy poems about aging and grief are surprising and invigorating: a defiant balm. At the same time, she revels in the quirkiness and whimsy of the natural world: the vision of a fly, the naming of an eggplant, and a woman who — not unhappily — finds that cockroaches are drawn to her.
“God draws a life. And then begins to rub it out / with the eraser on his pencil.” Lorna Crozier draws a world in What the Soul Doesn’t Want, and then beckons us in. Crozier’s signature wit and striking imagery are on display as she stretches her wings and reminds us that we haven’t yet seen all that she can do.
“God draws a life. And then begins to rub it out / with the eraser on his pencil.” Lorna Crozier draws a world in What the Soul Doesn’t Want, and then beckons us in. Crozier’s signature wit and striking imagery are on display as she stretches her wings and reminds us that we haven’t yet seen all that she can do.
64 pages, Paperback
Published May 1, 2017
5 people are currently reading
72 people want to read
About the author
Lorna Crozier
56 books85 followersLorna Crozier was born in 1948 in Swift Current, Saskatchewan. As a child growing up in a prairie community where the local heroes were hockey players and curlers, she “never once thought of being a writer.” After university, Lorna went on to teach high school English and work as a guidance counsellor. During these years, Lorna published her first poem in Grain magazine, a publication that turned her life toward writing. Her first collection Inside in the Sky was published in 1976. Since then, she has authored 14 books of poetry, including The Garden Going on Without Us, Angels of Flesh, Angels of Silence, Inventing the Hawk, winner of the 1992 Governor-General’s Award, Everything Arrives at the Light, Apocrypha of Light, What the Living Won’t Let Go, and most recently Whetstone. Whether Lorna is writing about angels, aging, or Louis Armstrong’s trout sandwich, she continues to engage readers and writers across Canada and the world with her grace, wisdom and wit. She is, as Margaret Laurence wrote, “a poet to be grateful for.”
Since the beginning of her writing career, Lorna has been known for her inspired teaching and mentoring of other poets. In 1980 Lorna was the writer-in-residence at the Cypress Hills Community College in Swift Current; in 1983, at the Regina Public Library; and in 1989 at the University of Toronto. She has held short-term residencies at the Universities of Toronto and Lethbridge and at Douglas College. Presently she lives near Victoria, where she teaches and serves as Chair in the Writing Department at the University.
Beyond making poems, Lorna has also edited two non-fiction collections – Desire in Seven Voices and Addiction: Notes from the Belly of the Beast. Together with her husband and fellow poet Patrick Lane, she edited the 1994 landmark collection Breathing Fire: Canada’s New Poets; in 2004, they co-edited Breathing Fire 2, once again introducing over thirty new writers to the Canadian literary world.
Her poems continue to be widely anthologized, appearing in 15 Canadian Poets X 3, 20th Century Poetry and Poetics, Poetry International and most recently in Open Field: An Anthology of Contemporary Canadian Poets, a collection designed for American readers.
Her reputation as a generous and inspiring artist extends from her passion for the craft of poetry to her teaching and through to her involvement in various social causes. In addition to leading poetry workshops across the globe, Lorna has given benefit readings for numerous organizations such as the SPCA, the BC Land Conservancy, the Victoria READ Society, and PEERS, a group committed to helping prostitutes get off the street. She has been a frequent guest on CBC radio where she once worked as a reviewer and arts show host. Wherever she reads she raises the profile and reputation of poetry.
Since the beginning of her writing career, Lorna has been known for her inspired teaching and mentoring of other poets. In 1980 Lorna was the writer-in-residence at the Cypress Hills Community College in Swift Current; in 1983, at the Regina Public Library; and in 1989 at the University of Toronto. She has held short-term residencies at the Universities of Toronto and Lethbridge and at Douglas College. Presently she lives near Victoria, where she teaches and serves as Chair in the Writing Department at the University.
Beyond making poems, Lorna has also edited two non-fiction collections – Desire in Seven Voices and Addiction: Notes from the Belly of the Beast. Together with her husband and fellow poet Patrick Lane, she edited the 1994 landmark collection Breathing Fire: Canada’s New Poets; in 2004, they co-edited Breathing Fire 2, once again introducing over thirty new writers to the Canadian literary world.
Her poems continue to be widely anthologized, appearing in 15 Canadian Poets X 3, 20th Century Poetry and Poetics, Poetry International and most recently in Open Field: An Anthology of Contemporary Canadian Poets, a collection designed for American readers.
Her reputation as a generous and inspiring artist extends from her passion for the craft of poetry to her teaching and through to her involvement in various social causes. In addition to leading poetry workshops across the globe, Lorna has given benefit readings for numerous organizations such as the SPCA, the BC Land Conservancy, the Victoria READ Society, and PEERS, a group committed to helping prostitutes get off the street. She has been a frequent guest on CBC radio where she once worked as a reviewer and arts show host. Wherever she reads she raises the profile and reputation of poetry.
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Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews
February 16, 2018
2 “it's not you, it's me” stars
Majority of these poems are eccentric and just downright weird; nonetheless, her poetry had me intrigued and after I finished reading this collection I found myself genuinely admiring Ms. Crozier's ability to convey her thoughts in such a unique and abstract manner.
It's not that I didn't like this collection, it's just that I understood these poems--in my own subjective way--but just didn't care when I was done. The only one that I really enjoyed was Field Studies: The Fly. It was definitely a very unique and impressionable poem.
Majority of these poems are eccentric and just downright weird; nonetheless, her poetry had me intrigued and after I finished reading this collection I found myself genuinely admiring Ms. Crozier's ability to convey her thoughts in such a unique and abstract manner.
It's not that I didn't like this collection, it's just that I understood these poems--in my own subjective way--but just didn't care when I was done. The only one that I really enjoyed was Field Studies: The Fly. It was definitely a very unique and impressionable poem.
May 2, 2022
The poems in What the Soul Doesn't Want are wonderful, with Lorna's ability to surprise always just after the next enjambed line! This is the first book ever that I have wanted, at the end of it, to turn at once to the beginning and read again. It speaks of coming to terms with aging and grief, and the poems are indeed relatable.
June 27, 2017
I will admit, I did not fully understand much of Crozier's book, but I was so enthralled with the language she used, that full comprehension was unnecessary. The words flowed beautifully, even when about topics such as cockroaches and death. This truly was a pleasure to read, and a book I will come back to again in the future, hopefully gleaning more meaning and interpretation on a second read.
September 20, 2018
NIGHT SHIFT
Death punches the clock and time lies broken.
Night scans Death's irises and lets him in.
What work is. No one knows better.
He's gone through five pairs
of steel toed-boots in less than a month.
Saved from himself only by his hard hat,
his visor, his inflammable suit. Asbestos.
He likes the sound of its crystals
building interminable winters in his lungs.
Is Death immortal? He can't tell you.
But short of breath, he's getting slower,
he drags one foot. Some say
they can hear him coming. So what?
His dog, gone deaf and blind,
still knows him when she lifts her head
and sniffs the dark, no matter how long
he's been away, no matter what smell
his soiled, troubled hands
bring lately home.
Death punches the clock and time lies broken.
Night scans Death's irises and lets him in.
What work is. No one knows better.
He's gone through five pairs
of steel toed-boots in less than a month.
Saved from himself only by his hard hat,
his visor, his inflammable suit. Asbestos.
He likes the sound of its crystals
building interminable winters in his lungs.
Is Death immortal? He can't tell you.
But short of breath, he's getting slower,
he drags one foot. Some say
they can hear him coming. So what?
His dog, gone deaf and blind,
still knows him when she lifts her head
and sniffs the dark, no matter how long
he's been away, no matter what smell
his soiled, troubled hands
bring lately home.
January 16, 2018
I loved:
St.Francis
Cockroach
St.Francis
Cockroach
February 29, 2020
Book 17/100: What the Soul Doesn't Want by Lorna Crozier. A quick poem book to hopefully get to my monthly goal. And this was quite the collection, I am speechless! Wow.
August 18, 2020
I especially loved the poems Eggplant, Catbird, Cockroach, Making Pies with Sylvia Plath. Such wonderful understanding and sense of humour.
October 2, 2017
In the Goodwill store, goodwill is not for sale
though there are many men's pajama pants, hardly worn.
Tea cups. Small spoons, too. Here's a big ceramic tomato
with a stem for you to grip - the top lifts off.
It's a cookie jar, stale crumbs and chocolate chips
litter the bottom. The lesson: you never know
what's in the hollow inside anything, especially a cane
carried by a foreign, old-time spy; especially the human heart.
(Lorna Crozier, "Time Studies", 24-31)
Thank you to 49th Shelf and Freehand Books for the free copy of this beautiful book of poetry; all opinions are my own.
Lorna Crozier's poetry is irreverent, intimate, and timeless. She describes the minute details of flies and cockroaches, of eggplants and catbirds, of owls and a mare named Sassafras. She considers aging and love, and time as it moves constantly forward. Her words are quiet and breathtaking, and while the collection can be read in one sitting, I feel like I will return to it many times. This volume will take a place of honour on my shelves.
As a student on the Canadian prairies, I have read/studied many of Ms. Crozier's works over the years. I attended the Sask Summer School of the Arts many years ago, and was blessed to sit in workshops facilitated by Ms. Crozier and her partner Patrick Lane. While I have never pursued a writing career, those moments have resounded with me, particularly when reading poetry and literary fiction.
A sweet read on an autumn evening.
though there are many men's pajama pants, hardly worn.
Tea cups. Small spoons, too. Here's a big ceramic tomato
with a stem for you to grip - the top lifts off.
It's a cookie jar, stale crumbs and chocolate chips
litter the bottom. The lesson: you never know
what's in the hollow inside anything, especially a cane
carried by a foreign, old-time spy; especially the human heart.
(Lorna Crozier, "Time Studies", 24-31)
Thank you to 49th Shelf and Freehand Books for the free copy of this beautiful book of poetry; all opinions are my own.
Lorna Crozier's poetry is irreverent, intimate, and timeless. She describes the minute details of flies and cockroaches, of eggplants and catbirds, of owls and a mare named Sassafras. She considers aging and love, and time as it moves constantly forward. Her words are quiet and breathtaking, and while the collection can be read in one sitting, I feel like I will return to it many times. This volume will take a place of honour on my shelves.
As a student on the Canadian prairies, I have read/studied many of Ms. Crozier's works over the years. I attended the Sask Summer School of the Arts many years ago, and was blessed to sit in workshops facilitated by Ms. Crozier and her partner Patrick Lane. While I have never pursued a writing career, those moments have resounded with me, particularly when reading poetry and literary fiction.
A sweet read on an autumn evening.
September 22, 2017
I found this book very beautiful. I believe it is better than the award winning The Wrong Cat. Standouts - Field Studies: The Fly; Catbird; Notes for the Start of Spring; Reading Merwin; Work 2;
Making Pies with Slyvia Plath; The Underworld - the list goes on.
Making Pies with Slyvia Plath; The Underworld - the list goes on.
September 9, 2017
Stand-out poems: Eggplant, Cockroach, Making Pies With Sylvia Plath, and What Happens to the Animals When the Woods Are Burning?
October 5, 2018
From prairiefire.ca. Review by Mary Barnes.
Reading Lorna Crozier’s poetry is always a surprise and a delight, and the poet does not disappoint with her latest collection, What the Soul Doesn’t Want.
She writes about growing old and the vulnerabilities which accompany aging. She writes about grief, about flies, cockroaches, birds and saints.
In her opening poem, ‘Not the Tongue’, she speaks of sorrow with dignity and gentleness. There is neither wailing nor gnashing of teeth here; ‘Sorrow bends/the hemlock boughs/but doesn’t break them.’ (11) Crozier writes. It raises the question: do we then see grief in another light? If we look at grief as a blessing, is it easier to carry?
In her poem ‘Algorithm: The Way Out” Crozier speaks of, ‘Grief’s/a snowdrift that thickens/as you walk. Weather it.’(30) There is something exhilarating about plowing through drifts of snow to show that we can transcend grief. Her poem ‘Making Pies with Sylvia Plath’ gives an alternate view of Plath’s untimely death. Crozier sets a scene of warmth in which she and Plath work side by side in a domestic task that stops time and delays the inevitable-the poet’s death.
She examines the helplessness of aging, the fact that ‘my husband is going blind’ in her poem ‘Self-Centred’. (53) And in another, ‘Winter Solstice’, the husband feels ‘…lost. I can’t find my way’ and she begins to weep. (52) What the Soul Doesn’t Want doesn’t mask or hide feelings or try to bring reason to our questions concerning our souls. Instead the poet gives us a vision into the world of the spirit and asks that we stay long enough to see.
She also takes us on a whimsical journey opening our eyes and minds to very different views of the natural world. ‘Field Studies: The Fly” has us seeing the insect in a new way. The fly in Crozier’s deft hand becomes a multifaceted being and not something ‘You’d even use/your favourite books of poems/to smash flat’. (22) The fly has ‘five eyes’ is a ‘Miniature seraphim God send down’ to spy.’(20) She suggests too that in winter the fly goes away to study other languages; ‘a second language, maybe Sanskrit, /maybe Hebrew, maybe Crow’. (21)
The poet’s humour shines through from her signature poem ‘What the Soul Doesn’t Want’ in lines such as ‘not homemade wine wrung from turnips’ and ‘not gravity’. (27) Think about that last one. In her poem ‘Eggplant’ she writes of Eve naming the plants. Her wit lifts the poem to a new height, one that has us see poetry fly above the ordinary.
Her last poem ‘February 20th’ reminds us of Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems, its lists of the quotidian, of standing in the ‘what’s-for-supper grocery line’ (59) and contemplating what it would be like to tell the shopper next to her that she is a poet. What would the reaction be? It gives new meaning to the old adage of food for thought.
Crozier’s poetry is steadfast; we can rely on her to entertain, to inform and delight as she explores new corners of the language. Her grasp of taking the ordinary and creating the extraordinary is done with design; she does so with control yet leaves room for us as readers to feel welcomed into the country of verse.
Reading Lorna Crozier’s poetry is always a surprise and a delight, and the poet does not disappoint with her latest collection, What the Soul Doesn’t Want.
She writes about growing old and the vulnerabilities which accompany aging. She writes about grief, about flies, cockroaches, birds and saints.
In her opening poem, ‘Not the Tongue’, she speaks of sorrow with dignity and gentleness. There is neither wailing nor gnashing of teeth here; ‘Sorrow bends/the hemlock boughs/but doesn’t break them.’ (11) Crozier writes. It raises the question: do we then see grief in another light? If we look at grief as a blessing, is it easier to carry?
In her poem ‘Algorithm: The Way Out” Crozier speaks of, ‘Grief’s/a snowdrift that thickens/as you walk. Weather it.’(30) There is something exhilarating about plowing through drifts of snow to show that we can transcend grief. Her poem ‘Making Pies with Sylvia Plath’ gives an alternate view of Plath’s untimely death. Crozier sets a scene of warmth in which she and Plath work side by side in a domestic task that stops time and delays the inevitable-the poet’s death.
She examines the helplessness of aging, the fact that ‘my husband is going blind’ in her poem ‘Self-Centred’. (53) And in another, ‘Winter Solstice’, the husband feels ‘…lost. I can’t find my way’ and she begins to weep. (52) What the Soul Doesn’t Want doesn’t mask or hide feelings or try to bring reason to our questions concerning our souls. Instead the poet gives us a vision into the world of the spirit and asks that we stay long enough to see.
She also takes us on a whimsical journey opening our eyes and minds to very different views of the natural world. ‘Field Studies: The Fly” has us seeing the insect in a new way. The fly in Crozier’s deft hand becomes a multifaceted being and not something ‘You’d even use/your favourite books of poems/to smash flat’. (22) The fly has ‘five eyes’ is a ‘Miniature seraphim God send down’ to spy.’(20) She suggests too that in winter the fly goes away to study other languages; ‘a second language, maybe Sanskrit, /maybe Hebrew, maybe Crow’. (21)
The poet’s humour shines through from her signature poem ‘What the Soul Doesn’t Want’ in lines such as ‘not homemade wine wrung from turnips’ and ‘not gravity’. (27) Think about that last one. In her poem ‘Eggplant’ she writes of Eve naming the plants. Her wit lifts the poem to a new height, one that has us see poetry fly above the ordinary.
Her last poem ‘February 20th’ reminds us of Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems, its lists of the quotidian, of standing in the ‘what’s-for-supper grocery line’ (59) and contemplating what it would be like to tell the shopper next to her that she is a poet. What would the reaction be? It gives new meaning to the old adage of food for thought.
Crozier’s poetry is steadfast; we can rely on her to entertain, to inform and delight as she explores new corners of the language. Her grasp of taking the ordinary and creating the extraordinary is done with design; she does so with control yet leaves room for us as readers to feel welcomed into the country of verse.
July 6, 2018
I've taken to reading poetry this summer and Lorna Crozier is a favourite. This collection gathers reflections on aging, the natural world and life in general. A semi-finalist for the Governor General's Literary Award for Poetry, What the Soul Doesn't Want is a wonderful collection.
For me Crozier's voice is pure Canadian. As a reader raised on Atwood, Laurence, and Munro, I recognize that feminist Canadian voice on a purely instinctual level. It resonates deep within me, making me pause after a particularly keen note is struck, suck in a deep breath, and scan the poem, soaking it in again and again. As a woman hitting her middle years, I found this collection from Crozier particularly poignant. It delves into bare truths that are easy to bury in daily life. The subtle sense of loss that permeates the aging process saturates her poems and yet is juxtaposed with pieces of whimsy. The cockroach poetry is particularly intriguing.
The best poetry blends pure emotion with intellect. Crozier does this well. At times, however, her realism edges towards depression. Yet just as one is tipping into the futility of life, she pulls back and throws in a beautiful portrait from nature, putting one's human existence into perspective and evoking a smile.
Lorna Crozier is a favourite. And poetry is worth every penny you spend on it. Don't miss this lovely collection.
For me Crozier's voice is pure Canadian. As a reader raised on Atwood, Laurence, and Munro, I recognize that feminist Canadian voice on a purely instinctual level. It resonates deep within me, making me pause after a particularly keen note is struck, suck in a deep breath, and scan the poem, soaking it in again and again. As a woman hitting her middle years, I found this collection from Crozier particularly poignant. It delves into bare truths that are easy to bury in daily life. The subtle sense of loss that permeates the aging process saturates her poems and yet is juxtaposed with pieces of whimsy. The cockroach poetry is particularly intriguing.
The best poetry blends pure emotion with intellect. Crozier does this well. At times, however, her realism edges towards depression. Yet just as one is tipping into the futility of life, she pulls back and throws in a beautiful portrait from nature, putting one's human existence into perspective and evoking a smile.
Lorna Crozier is a favourite. And poetry is worth every penny you spend on it. Don't miss this lovely collection.
January 29, 2022
A horse made out of rain (it doesn't need a blacksmith).
A fret of dragonflies, the thin glass of their wings.
A yellow bicycle. Outside the door
a tall coffee can full of sand for the soul'd gritty habits.
A place where the trees are happy. How can you tell?
It's the smell they give back to the world.
* * *
Not a plastic bucket. Not a logging truck.
Not homemade wine wrung from turnips.
Not a fox with rabies.
The soul might accept a rat mother,
an eel basket woven from wicker, a leather collar
that reeks of goat.
Not a gas station with the lights shot out.
Not gravity.
Not a mask that keeps the body
breathing. The soul doesn't want
another face,
not even the face of a snowy owl.
* * *
My husband is going blind.
Soon no one will say
I am beautiful
in my new dress,
my red shoes.
Or will he say it more often,
old woman that I am,
now that he can't see?
* * *
The electric in eel. One rib from any kind
of whale. A moon snail's thick grey neck.
Garlic scrapes. A dear companion. A skink's
blue tongue. Think of all the blue things
it could say.
A fret of dragonflies, the thin glass of their wings.
A yellow bicycle. Outside the door
a tall coffee can full of sand for the soul'd gritty habits.
A place where the trees are happy. How can you tell?
It's the smell they give back to the world.
- What the Soul Wants, pg. 12
* * *
Not a plastic bucket. Not a logging truck.
Not homemade wine wrung from turnips.
Not a fox with rabies.
The soul might accept a rat mother,
an eel basket woven from wicker, a leather collar
that reeks of goat.
Not a gas station with the lights shot out.
Not gravity.
Not a mask that keeps the body
breathing. The soul doesn't want
another face,
not even the face of a snowy owl.
- What the Soul Doesn't Want, pg. 27
* * *
My husband is going blind.
Soon no one will say
I am beautiful
in my new dress,
my red shoes.
Or will he say it more often,
old woman that I am,
now that he can't see?
- Self-Centred, pg. 53
* * *
The electric in eel. One rib from any kind
of whale. A moon snail's thick grey neck.
Garlic scrapes. A dear companion. A skink's
blue tongue. Think of all the blue things
it could say.
- What the Soul Wants 2, pg. 56
January 25, 2022
Normally when a book has been on my shelf for over two years and it has remained unread, I give it away. But I’ve had a copy of Crozier’s poetry book What the Soul Doesn’t Want since 2017 because I never felt ready to give it up – I knew I would get to it someday because reading her words brings me so much joy. As I knew I would, I reveled in each page, savoring the lines and delighting at the observations of the natural world that she frequently writes about. In this collection one of my favourite poems is about animals fleeing a forest fire and taking up in a house for safety. I’ve developed a theory about why I love her poetry; she begins with a concrete thing, person, place, animal, etc. and then moves outward from it. Instead of writing about ‘feelings’, she roots her words into something tangible, and then from there, hits the reader with observations about the feelings it evokes. I like to know what the poet is talking about; it feels like Crozier and I are starting in the same place, and then she takes my hand and shows me what else can be imagined from where we came from.
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November 2, 2023
What The Soul Doesn’t Want echoes with beautiful melancholy and thoughtful words. Her observations of life, death, humanity and nature are brought to light in this collection. As always one is left wanting to read more of Crozier’s illuminations. One fine example:
Time Studies
The watches in the Goodwill store are the watches
of the dead. If you put one to your ear
you’ll hear the sound of snow falling. (From p.14)
The opening lines invite the reader in and you enter with good will. Your intentions are clear you want to find your way into the place where the poet reveals what she wanted you to see for yourself.
Time Studies
The watches in the Goodwill store are the watches
of the dead. If you put one to your ear
you’ll hear the sound of snow falling. (From p.14)
The opening lines invite the reader in and you enter with good will. Your intentions are clear you want to find your way into the place where the poet reveals what she wanted you to see for yourself.
June 16, 2021
I wasn't sure going into this if the poetry style was for me, and it was a bit hit and miss in that regard, but I really enjoyed the TOPICS of some of the poems. I really loved the deep dive poems on the unknown intricate natures of some bugs or what-have-you and how they still all felt on theme enough with the random conversation about life, loss, and what the soul wants. The more story format poems were my favorite of course, and although some imagery jars me in poems I could always appreciate the essence of what was being described over its actuality.
Read
April 23, 2025"Close to your ear a swallow's wings
are paper flipping, small notebook
made of grace and fall."
- 'Such', pg. 34
"The electric in eel. One rib from any kind of whale. A moon snail's thick grey neck. Garlic scapes. A dear companion. A skink's blue tongue. Think of all the blue things it could say."
- 'What the Soul Wants II', pg. 56
are paper flipping, small notebook
made of grace and fall."
- 'Such', pg. 34
"The electric in eel. One rib from any kind of whale. A moon snail's thick grey neck. Garlic scapes. A dear companion. A skink's blue tongue. Think of all the blue things it could say."
- 'What the Soul Wants II', pg. 56
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 21, 2017
I loved this latest collection of poetry from Lorna Crozier. A look at grief, aging, nature. The poems are playful and profound.
… you never know
what's in the hollow inside anything, especially a cane
carried by a foreign old-time spy, especially the human heart.
-from "Time Studies"
… you never know
what's in the hollow inside anything, especially a cane
carried by a foreign old-time spy, especially the human heart.
-from "Time Studies"
August 10, 2018
These poems do what poetry should do—use language aesthetically, beautifully, and teach is to think about things differently. She taught me to appreciate eggplants even though I don't like to eat them.
February 13, 2020
I really like Crozier’s poem. This collection has several poems that deal with grief and aging. There are also poems that about nature and are more whimsical (if squeamish), such as a poem about cockroaches. Her language remains beautiful throughout.
January 2, 2018
Pretty gritty stuff. Good for the grieving but not a cheery read...
November 2, 2018
I liked the poems about aging, time, grief and loss. I loved the everyday quality to the poems they felt like fit right in..
April 28, 2019
Very good
February 14, 2020
Most enjoyable.
July 17, 2020
Beautiful!
April 10, 2022
I found this collection of poems rather dark. Not quite as enjoyable as some of her other collections.
May 16, 2022
The poet has a way with words. Fantastic book of poems.
December 23, 2023
Field Studies: The Fly
Cockroach
Such
Making Pies with Sylvia Plath
February 20th
Cockroach
Such
Making Pies with Sylvia Plath
February 20th
Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews