Charmi Keranen rated it: 4 Stars
Read in July, 2009
First, the disclaimer. I've known Reed for several years and have had the pleasure of watching many of the poems in This Admirable Miry Clay emerge. Now, the reclaimer. I'm can be a tough sell, even among friends. But enough of my claims. Encountering Reed's poems is akin to watching someone cock a gun. She is flintlock tough and her work seethes and rails against a world that has spun out of control and has been spinning out of control for as long as she can recall. She takes aim at both the personal and the public world. From "Trust Me" come these lines: Trust me. There could have been a real explosion with all this flammable notion in the air, and me unloading my gun, with its pent-up heat in the chambers. Or in "The Thin Dream" No one hears the warning of the world being on fire, of all the turning points being blown up. Reed isn't afraid to spill some blood, hers or others, in her poetry, and all this makes for a very visercal read.
This one is from Poet Hound, with whom I've swapped postcards in the past. I think this one is my favorite card thus far. And the poem begins: Tabitha knew poetry was a rabbit hole and here was the proof:) Good stuff!
A Julia Margaret Cameron photo from Pasco, WA (the 4th one I've received from the state of WA!)
A handmade card, with the poem as the card (great idea; I may steal it) from Albany, NY. Great poem, too (the face you made up is unrecognizable to you). Thank you Carolee Sherwood!
