Added: Kristofer Yang - Date: 27.04.2022 19:51 - Views: 31330 - Clicks: 4018
It is a sad old thing, this trap, dysfunctional and dangerous mainly in its uselessness. What a shock then that Lynnell Edwards has whetted the teeth, oiled the hinge, and freshened the bait, turning rusted, creaking sexual politics into a real legbreaker. In Covetfemininity becomes a masterful force and fragility a pointed threat. Edwards uses a beautiful and fragile central image throughout the poems: hard edges moving under, stabbing against, and sometimes puncturing a delicate membrane.
She builds on old themes of fragility and maternal care to create an image not just loving and delicate but also grotesque and painful. Elsewhere, she finds the same effect in many silent places: the bones of birds moving under too-thin skin or the crackle of ice skinning a surface and ready to shatter. Here the poems of Covet feel most similar to those of Laura Kasischke, in love with the terror of life.
The implied violence of that quiet scene is repeated elsewhere. Edwards does so well at redefining these too-easily gendered concepts into shapes new and strange that the poems that merely repeat moments of this translation, rather than adding to the process, become missed beats. The poems collected as " from The Catalogue," each a small still-life of a curious bauble or kitchen item from an antique show, don't feel of a piece with the rest of Covet.
Individually, they are fine poems but they feel like a tangent. The same is true of the first two movements of "Suite for Red River Gorge," the penultimate poem, which feel disconnected by simple narrative elements and blank description in its first two movements. The third movement of this triptych, however, "Whistling Arch," does reconnect with the energy at the heart of Covet ; it plays again with the blurring of hardness and softness.
Here geological time is accelerated to reel the world madly through the aperture of the "lonely O" of a stone arch slowly molded by countless years of erosion, unspooling the past and future at once. Covet ends with the fragile beauty of a "matted thing of hair and claw and bone" watching the sky and mistaking the dive of a scavenger finding prey for a "wheeling fall" from grace. Anthony Rintala, poet and master eclectrician, spent many years on the hard streets of the American South.
He did not live there, he just spent his youth walking down them toward the library or any of a series of comic book spinner racks. Rintala walked alongside these gooey streets of the American South, reading something, complaining, and thinking about snazzy desserts. Southern Indiana Review. Its bruising, indiscriminate want robs the soft places, and wounds.
Eclectrician Anthony Rintala, poet and master eclectrician, spent many years on the hard streets of the American South. Facebook Twitter Youtube Linkedin Instagram.
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