this (very readable!) volume of prose poetry opens with nothing short of a love letter:
[…] When I hear you
being arrogant and argumentative, my heart leaps. Your nihilism
is fast becoming the richest source of meaning in my life and it is
my pleasure to watch you speaking harshly to others.
[…] Your promiscuity is like a
faithful dog at my side.
[…] I often suspect that you do not even like me and my laughter
overflows like water from a blocked cistern.
but in all honesty, i picked out this book i always pick out books – i took it off the shelf, opened it somewhere toward the middle, and started reading. it was the poem “wolf on the couch” that got me to buy this book. the idea of a psychoanalyst wolf was just too quirky to pass up, but the poem can handle closer reading, too. it is the love for detail in just the right places that got me. The description of the owl is plain beautiful:
When you look closely he appears to be made up of a network of tiny cities.
And in the rain?
The same, but wetter.
kennard’s volume is full of gems. another one is A Sure-Fire Sign, which tells of a writer’s relationship with Erica who has very clear ideas as to what writing should be:
“For instance,” says Erica, “I have a rule in my writing that I’m not allowed to use the following words: WRITING, POETRY, WRITER, POET, WRITTEN, NOVELIST, POEM, JOURNALIST, DRAMATIST, DIARIST. And whenever I do, I pull out one of my fingernails and dip the finger into a bowl of vinegar.”
no further comment. 🙂