I've been dragging my feet on this one. It took me three weeks to finish because I knew I would be reviewing it and ... sadly, I didn't like it much. The author states in the Note to the Reader that many of these poems were written in response to assignments in her poetry group, and I think that shows. It's partly the mix of forms which makes it hard to get a handle on the poet's true style, but it's more than that. There are so many that I found unconvincing; I just couldn't believe she cared about them. Many have good ideas, some have vivid imagery and a few have strong rhythms, but those three things rarely came together in a single poem. Some had a few lines I liked but others which spoiled the total effect. The last line of "The Lorelei to Heinrich Heine," for instance, struck me as clumsy and sophomoric:
when I sit lonely in the sun
and comb my hair and comb my hair
till there comes by another one,
some boy a mother had,
to sink with me and die.
O why am I so sad?"
There were poems I couldn't quite get my mouth around, wondering how is this supposed to sound? I grew bored by lists and shook my head at the simple declarative sentences such as these in "Peace Vigil, March, 2003" describing a man who
wandered into the circle and stood
looking around, till somebody
spoke to him, somebody gave him
a candle, somebody lighted the candle.
Then he sat down on the wet pavement
right in the empty center of the circle.
He sat huddled up over the candle,
holding it in one hand and holding
the other hand over it to get warm, and then
he would change hands.
There were, on the other hand, poems I liked very much such as "Nobody" and "The Shiksa" My joyful Jew, my jubilant Jew/my young King David, an ear so true,/I would have given the world for you and this tiny one which reminded me of Edna St. Vincent Millay.
"On Hemlock Street"
I see broad shoulders,
a silver head,
and I think: John!
And I think: dead.
I think the collection was an interesting experiment for the author but less rewarding for the reader.