tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31154077367552216082024-03-14T22:08:07.105-04:00Weights and MeasuresDennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.comBlogger415125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-82688143358890062162024-03-13T20:44:00.000-04:002024-03-13T20:44:08.480-04:00Review of Blues, Prayers, & Pagan Chants by Diane Sahms<p><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif;">Are there parallel universes that
complete us, that deliver meaning where there seems to be only chaos-- a place,
perhaps, for prayers to be delivered, petitions to be filed, unholy chants to
be rhythmically sounded out, and sadnesses to be unfolded into wonder and song?
Diane Sahms, at least in a literary sense, seems to think so. In her marvelous
new book, Blues, Prayers, and Pagan Chants Sahms connects with this other shadow
(sometimes sacred) reality, often using memory as her catalyst and nature as
her medium. For more of my review of Blues, Prayers, & Pagan Chants go here: <a href="https://dougholder.blogspot.com/2024/03/blues-prayers-pagan-chants-poems-by.html">https://dougholder.blogspot.com/2024/03/blues-prayers-pagan-chants-poems-by.html</a></span></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-83758694617045993702024-02-06T10:34:00.001-05:002024-02-06T10:47:50.673-05:00Front and Back Covers for my Forthcoming Book<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9sj1WOJFm75zIyQmkFBdQOECQDcXjXcpNzr8P9murdkYOcIsrW3bdYMgdTuqacc1Ndk4702lA_ygzF2mj8yp52eJpOVXxU1fOkCAX7XHpAYaL9tIirwZxcyRBuMQr-5G4q-cG2ApLUxkNy_3Zwv10VMLHjTQfkUXdzfnt_Cf9wHw0F4Kl9PaxUAaC6E/s4616/OddManOut_kcover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3500" data-original-width="4616" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9sj1WOJFm75zIyQmkFBdQOECQDcXjXcpNzr8P9murdkYOcIsrW3bdYMgdTuqacc1Ndk4702lA_ygzF2mj8yp52eJpOVXxU1fOkCAX7XHpAYaL9tIirwZxcyRBuMQr-5G4q-cG2ApLUxkNy_3Zwv10VMLHjTQfkUXdzfnt_Cf9wHw0F4Kl9PaxUAaC6E/w400-h304/OddManOut_kcover.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Front and Back Covers of my soon-to-be-published new book of poems, Odd Man Out. Thank you to editor Marc Vincenz and to Philip Nikolayev and Michael Casey for their kind and generous words. Much appreciated.</p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-25433282118074797402024-01-26T19:19:00.001-05:002024-01-26T19:26:44.407-05:00Front Cover of my Forthcoming Book: Odd Man Out<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihpZkMjPqbreAbBYV29ES6-la8DsCRzYOF2gHIH22XI5b3xkO-0VMZExK-nVCvCpLvzQ5m-5i8I8q_9VFTFgjJNq70WvKv0hPH4konOzf-de2YZKni93WDYS_oBoThcQWfxa1ND1Eok_C1cGB8vsl4mNeJtrRU42LHrk1NLnMg1ITmzbnsYgjV469f58/s3600/OddManOut_Cover_Draft.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3600" data-original-width="2400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihpZkMjPqbreAbBYV29ES6-la8DsCRzYOF2gHIH22XI5b3xkO-0VMZExK-nVCvCpLvzQ5m-5i8I8q_9VFTFgjJNq70WvKv0hPH4konOzf-de2YZKni93WDYS_oBoThcQWfxa1ND1Eok_C1cGB8vsl4mNeJtrRU42LHrk1NLnMg1ITmzbnsYgjV469f58/s320/OddManOut_Cover_Draft.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>This is the front cover of my soon-to-be-published next book of poems. Much thanks to Marc Vincenz, the editor of MadHat Press.</span><p></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-90005212936727271772024-01-22T15:22:00.000-05:002024-01-22T15:22:09.347-05:00Review of Uyghur Poems<p> Poet Karen Klein has published an insightful review of Uyghur Poems (including 13 of my translations) on the Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene. Here is the link: <a href="https://dougholder.blogspot.com/2024/01/uyghur-poems-edaziz-isa-elkun-transaziz.html">https://dougholder.blogspot.com/2024/01/uyghur-poems-edaziz-isa-elkun-transaziz.html</a></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-76982201953524166412023-11-09T08:49:00.002-05:002023-11-09T09:08:56.325-05:0013 of My Translations Re-published by Alfred A. Knopf (Penguin Random House)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY55du3FKpcTXpVdLVROCqO-Fv9RUPaHtnPOYiwXkg2Gl0ilNPcJw8e4PnM-nxLGWQ6hyajtSzY9q1C8o6bZfVtqtz9VY2vZ9lplYYwoZaTgLC2ibdKKYl-wyTKn-7sz6UniI3l49CATZsuEKK4dTdepzOc7GSVeopEZiIRiOKpkVX0OV_jj0lrJxOop0/s1500/16993868424857214032107191895964.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY55du3FKpcTXpVdLVROCqO-Fv9RUPaHtnPOYiwXkg2Gl0ilNPcJw8e4PnM-nxLGWQ6hyajtSzY9q1C8o6bZfVtqtz9VY2vZ9lplYYwoZaTgLC2ibdKKYl-wyTKn-7sz6UniI3l49CATZsuEKK4dTdepzOc7GSVeopEZiIRiOKpkVX0OV_jj0lrJxOop0/s320/16993868424857214032107191895964.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>Alfred A. Knopf (Owned by Penguin Random House) released Uyghur Poems on November 7th as part of their Everyman's Library Pocket Poets series. The book is being published simultaneously in New York, London and Toronto.<p></p><p>13 of my translations of Alisher Navoiy (or Ali-Shir Nava'i), chosen by editor Aziz Isa Elkun, himself a Uyghur poet, are included in this collection. </p><p>Thank you to Gloria Mindock, who originally published my translations in Twenty-One Ghazals by Alisher Navoiy (Cervena Barva Press), and Steve Glines, who designed much of that book. Their trust and superb work brought great attention to my translations.</p><p>From the Amazon Book Overview: In the face of the systematic persecution of the Uyghurs in China today, which has driven many of their poets into exile, Uyghur Poems is not only a remarkable one-volume tour of ancient and vibrant poetic tradition but also a vital witness to a threatened culture.</p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-21865620393861803052023-10-16T07:52:00.000-04:002023-10-16T07:52:14.205-04:00Review of Swift River Ballad by Thomas DeFreitas<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12pt;">When tonality
rides along the surface in poetry the results often appear strangely profound.
In Thomas DeFreitas’ new book, Swift River Ballad, the poet pilots his paper
boat of sorts down a torrent of uplifting canticles and unsettling hymns,
seeking the truth, but missing the dangerous rocks and eddies along the way. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 12pt;">DeFreitas stops
his readers in their too comfortable tracks with curiously numinous images and
sacerdotal references. His technique strikes one as unusual (in the sense of
modern verse) and new. Depth is never a problem here. The poet’s perfect pitch
phraseology allows submergence into subconscious levels when necessary and
proper in an emotive sense.</span> For more of my review of Swift River Ballad go here: https: <a href="http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2023/10/swift-river-ballad-poems-by-thomas.html">dougholder.blogspot.com/2023/10/swift-river-ballad-poems-by-thomas.html</a></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-27815262955822874092023-08-01T17:07:00.004-04:002023-08-01T17:07:57.896-04:00Review of It's Not Love Till Someone Loses An Eye by Clay Ventre<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">First books of
poetry rarely surprise. Clay Ventre’s initial collection, It’s Not Love Until
Someone Loses An Eye, does. His first-rate love poems are off-beat and oddly
self-demolishing. He chisels each quirky narrative to innovative perfection and
then keeps on chiseling. The new, miniature worlds created by Ventre’s persona
and his persona’s lover highlight reality’s instability and logical absurdness.
But that’s alright. Creators (read
poets), after all, are (for good or ill) gods and goddesses by virtue of their
productions, and they make sense by rearranging the raw material of chaos. For more of my review go here: </span> http://<a href="http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2023/07/its-not-love-till-someone-loses-eye-by.html">dougholder.blogspot.com/2023/07/its-not-love-till-someone-loses-eye-by.html</a></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-60190122756514494572023-06-09T13:54:00.000-04:002023-06-09T13:54:33.154-04:00Review of the Pearl Diver of Irunmani<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Slicing through
the surface of airless consciousness toward unfathomable truths can excite the
artistic imagination into a rather unique understanding of being and self. Marc
Vincenz in his new book, The Pearl Diver of Irunmani, concocts distinctive and
curious metaphors from these rarely explored oceanic depths with their hitherto
undetected, and sometimes priceless, gems.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Many of
Vincenz’s poems are disguised narrative pieces seemingly connected with a
dreamlike, almost metaphysical logic. His sparse, but poignant, imagery belies
the substantial emotions and mnemonic thought subsumed within.</span> For more of my review go here: <a href="http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-pearl-diver-of-irunmani-by-marc.html">http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-pearl-diver-of-irunmani-by-marc.html</a></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-62711227944144195582023-04-30T07:01:00.001-04:002023-04-30T07:07:15.660-04:00My Poem, Lilith Appears at the All-Souls Lounge, Published<p>My poem, Lilith Appears at the All-Souls Lounge, has just been published by the Lily Poetry Review (Issue 9, Winter 2023). I am honored. Thank you to Editor-in-Chief Eileen Cleary and her staff. Many other excellent poems are within.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhT2pRAjibWXo08fC5xWSBklIZA0SlzDqEbKHduuSLIYKJuzmN16n5QSVN-EJRdKCbpR0kA9haZ88PCs5PX7x3a47__3zl7_E1PAlKRYbLhZydnsaNnS_BL_LgaaZNS2BjW9eaOmGs6IO5WBmYIrEfXZHasPjCHrmkKSDn30RTWFy-bdMATZn5_7jm/s4080/Lilith%20Appears.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3060" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhT2pRAjibWXo08fC5xWSBklIZA0SlzDqEbKHduuSLIYKJuzmN16n5QSVN-EJRdKCbpR0kA9haZ88PCs5PX7x3a47__3zl7_E1PAlKRYbLhZydnsaNnS_BL_LgaaZNS2BjW9eaOmGs6IO5WBmYIrEfXZHasPjCHrmkKSDn30RTWFy-bdMATZn5_7jm/s320/Lilith%20Appears.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-67977074440376314322023-04-03T07:33:00.000-04:002023-04-03T07:33:14.550-04:00Review of the Ruined Millionaire by Ben Mazer<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Internalized
reality and memory need inspired, mindful editing to reach their fated shape of
first-rate poetry. Ben Mazer showcases his skills as the genre’s perfect (or,
at least, near-perfect) editor in his new book, The Ruined Millionaire.
Somehow, in the evident density of Mazer’s work, his mirrored image metaphorically
seems to appear distributing versified handbills that alert his already
captured audience to the celebration of self-consciousness unquestionably
underway. Oxidized word-bronzes and broken shards of stained-glass history are
reinvigorated by this poet into contemporary, albeit runic, measures. Here the
mind’s suzerainty is never in doubt. And Mazer is nothing if not the self-conscious
observer of his own cognizant creations. For more of my review go here: http://<a href="http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2023/04/the-ruined-millionaire-by-ben-mazer_3.html">dougholder.blogspot.com/2023/04/the-ruined-millionaire-by-ben-mazer_3.html</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span> </p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-64193609334744869152023-03-30T21:28:00.001-04:002023-03-30T21:29:48.964-04:00Ed Meek reviews my new book, Psalms Composed in Utter Darkness<p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV5b99pChexJhdv_mWKJzo1sFlhd0PK2LFl4VE8NvpnQlcTU_o8fj_pRVwt0bKexMfRg92iBRl-t8nuCJqdBwu2pAv3tcECiYU61i_NUVAOziaiTBvVyYzhXCFLNWHstnszI6FQFkr7-ZQqgobI6I9gM7jyZKtR246-RctuiCWh35gZv6ODUKziVFW/s2700/Psalms-frcov.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV5b99pChexJhdv_mWKJzo1sFlhd0PK2LFl4VE8NvpnQlcTU_o8fj_pRVwt0bKexMfRg92iBRl-t8nuCJqdBwu2pAv3tcECiYU61i_NUVAOziaiTBvVyYzhXCFLNWHstnszI6FQFkr7-ZQqgobI6I9gM7jyZKtR246-RctuiCWh35gZv6ODUKziVFW/s320/Psalms-frcov.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is the link to Ed Meek's Review <a href="http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2023/03/psalms-composed-in-utter-darkness-by.html">http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2023/03/psalms-composed-in-utter-darkness-by.html</a></span><p></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-88914793372185420582023-03-21T18:54:00.002-04:002023-03-22T19:53:56.438-04:00Psalms Composed in Utter Darkness Published<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNxb9xee5IiQOqqLLC7JwIuO_X-HlBGhxogRrOhdj_JHG9-Q4cZyR-QkBU3hZnnNOfS7zOGoemCwtJfnq2xAqb_AZWCcamscJNsDLg54V191LGaP4alLaMlN6YoDPBs3m2f_hp_cbFf4yzrPeSUt_KbVit_-kzuo4mjebe-wUsywneKIOmjSiwnY4/s2700/Psalms-frcov.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyNxb9xee5IiQOqqLLC7JwIuO_X-HlBGhxogRrOhdj_JHG9-Q4cZyR-QkBU3hZnnNOfS7zOGoemCwtJfnq2xAqb_AZWCcamscJNsDLg54V191LGaP4alLaMlN6YoDPBs3m2f_hp_cbFf4yzrPeSUt_KbVit_-kzuo4mjebe-wUsywneKIOmjSiwnY4/w133-h200/Psalms-frcov.jpg" width="133" /></a></div><br /> <div><br /></div><div>My latest book, Psalms Composed in Utter Darkness, has just been published and is available at the publisher's site. Here is the link: <a href="https://www.dosmadres.com/shop/psalms-composed-in-utter-darkness-by-dennis-daly/">https://www.dosmadres.com/shop/psalms-composed-in-utter-darkness-by-dennis-daly/</a><p></p></div><div>This book is also available at the Grolier Poetry Book Shop, 6 Plympton St., Cambridge, MA.</div>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-85274758235043427812023-01-31T19:47:00.012-05:002023-02-13T07:52:57.013-05:00Covers of My Forthcoming Book<p><br /> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBHjji4L5T7OiQFczMHk2qnv_kh77NBmf0hpVaevGiEVjtiqKwBYneyfDORJKpwwCEpr4x8IP6oz4JqFexxZwtwMCtD0QPUJ88-hIK9oJlC_RQ0EVqeBhZy-myWwwmQBcDrfwLnpvgvTkhcEl10c-SZ8qtkxOGiiIn-sjtMuL3E-Wf2Mpm3VShWp3d/s2700/Psalms-frcov.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBHjji4L5T7OiQFczMHk2qnv_kh77NBmf0hpVaevGiEVjtiqKwBYneyfDORJKpwwCEpr4x8IP6oz4JqFexxZwtwMCtD0QPUJ88-hIK9oJlC_RQ0EVqeBhZy-myWwwmQBcDrfwLnpvgvTkhcEl10c-SZ8qtkxOGiiIn-sjtMuL3E-Wf2Mpm3VShWp3d/w267-h400/Psalms-frcov.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Here is the front cover of my soon-to-be- released book, Psalms Composed in Utter Darkness. Thank you to Dos Madres editor Robert Murphy and Elizabeth Murphy for her marvelous design. </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVLkeBxz4AOqsvp5k40RBc3T16YKJ42TGWcJUgxHWK6uk55iOw8OvvIiZb9sAo5ZzVs1JbS9iD6BQ8_V0AA-xB1JLZ0cpctcwMi2nykbruliQoRqXcLPEZ7S286EqcnTqlVmFRgguuyUoFhU_7i2UJhDIp6Bc_S1EiDeaF2DXt0u26JQ5JjylfB_i/s2700/Psalms-bkcov.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVLkeBxz4AOqsvp5k40RBc3T16YKJ42TGWcJUgxHWK6uk55iOw8OvvIiZb9sAo5ZzVs1JbS9iD6BQ8_V0AA-xB1JLZ0cpctcwMi2nykbruliQoRqXcLPEZ7S286EqcnTqlVmFRgguuyUoFhU_7i2UJhDIp6Bc_S1EiDeaF2DXt0u26JQ5JjylfB_i/w266-h400/Psalms-bkcov.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><span><div style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">This is the back cover of my forthcoming book from Dos Madres, Psalms Composed in Utter Darkness. Special thanks to Denise Provost, who wrote this generous and upbeat blurb, and also contributed savvy advice on the text.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></div></span><div><div><br /></div></div>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-71724590065344766812022-12-24T07:32:00.000-05:002022-12-24T07:32:19.476-05:00Review of My Report from the Uwharries<p> <span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ranging over and
through the world of the imagination, gathering details, and illuminating the
poetic high ground found between the unfathomable and the understood is no mean
feat. In her newest collection of poetry, My Report from the Uwharries, Irene
Mitchell leads us along the ancient paths of mood and metaphor finding, of all
things, a wry, contemplative vision of harmony. For more of my review of My Report from the Uwharries go here: http://<a href="http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2022/12/my-report-from-uwharries-by-irene.html">dougholder.blogspot.com/2022/12/my-report-from-uwharries-by-irene.html</a></span></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-66402860563888571642022-12-24T06:48:00.001-05:002022-12-24T06:49:33.006-05:003 New Poems just Published by Lothlorien Poetry Journal<p>Three of my poems were just published by Lothlorien Poetry Journal: Bypassing the All-Souls Lounge, Ash Wednesday at the All-Souls Lounge, and Boethius Has Second Thoughts at the All-Souls Lounge. My thanks to the editor, Strider Marcus Jones. Here is the link: https://<a href="http://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2022/12/three-poems-by-dennis-daly.html">lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2022/12/three-poems-by-dennis-daly.html</a></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-4247720661603893822022-12-08T19:57:00.000-05:002022-12-08T19:57:04.450-05:00Sunken Boats<p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-size: 13.2px;">My daughter drives us through the old delta, past the fish sign, into the town. The sea has receded one hundred miles. Pathetic man-made canals scar the foreground, reach outward to bring the waters back.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-size: 13.2px;"> </span></p><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1353989260536042607" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 650px;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";">Splotches of gray-green weed angle up through the pesticide poisons, search for the scorching sun. We walk into the great basin, pace off distances between sunken boats, rusted hulks settled on an ancient seabed once busy with numinous fish, nibbling in amazing multitudes—a different time, a time of believers, when clouds and rain and children’s shallow splashing limned this Eden. <o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";">Beyond the horizon, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Resurrection</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Island</st1:placetype></st1:place>, a facility for biological evil, no longer quarantined by water, issues its next weapons-grade plague, oozing ever outward to what once was the mainland, to a tangled remnant of human kind, hardened, awaiting new horrors.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";">A truck in a dust cocoon squeals to a stop on the access road, next to our car. Two men jump off, inspect their tires, all the while sizing us up, smelling for weakness fifty yards away. I’m walking towards them fast. I try to look unhesitant and threatening. They decide to leave, disappear, dust and all, into the sea’s desiccant fathoms.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";">Everyone is sick in Muynak: anemia, tuberculosis, cancers. Their future, like their sea, has ebbed away. People speak of death as a wandering friend, now returned, welcomed. Government officials, we’re told, arrive in packs almost monthly, wring their hands, and write reports that detail another five year plan.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";">The river that fed this sea and awed Alexander the Great, the <st1:place w:st="on">Oxus</st1:place>, once mighty, dies in a desert hole, its strength siphoned by cotton crops: its former dreams of hurricane swells no longer viable. A river paradise turned phantom.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";">There used to be canning factories on the bluff, overlooking the harbor. Industry and the fish-harvest defined all the geography that mattered.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";">We pass beggars and street children losing color, depth; half wraith, they wave or beckon or both. It’s as if hell cannot maintain its solidity.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";">A sand storm follows us south through Nukus: our windows sealed to no avail. Wild camels cross the road. They are cooked locally and eaten here by inhabitants of yurts.<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";">The momentary ado of an accident appears on the road. Someone has been killed. Hit and run, I think. We ease by.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif";"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", "serif"; font-size: 13.2px;">First Blogged 2013</b></div></div>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-1985147437885570062022-12-05T10:26:00.001-05:002022-12-05T16:52:47.995-05:00Waiting for the Suicide Bomber<p>Wais, the bartender and part owner of the Hotel, waves his Glock in the air like a blessing. On cue, four beefy men, two on each side of the bar, pull their weapons out, check their magazines, compare. The men, all in their mid-thirties, all wearing jeans, are contractors, probably. Wais’ dum-dum bullets impress, carry the day.</p><p>I grab my draft beer and pretend to sneer at the Yankees fan beside me. Mid fifties I’d say, quieter than the others, except when pontificating on his favorite sports team. He heads security at the airbase, or so he says.</p><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Can I get through the Salang tunnel? I ask out loud. Wais thinks so. All four of the contractors agree. Opium trucks queue up all day long, at about ten thousand feet. They let them through at night, after the construction workers leave. Concoct some story and stick with it; they’ll let you through too.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Last week I drove up there, says Wais. Didn’t get through, but I had a woman with me—a reporter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tried to impress her; it wasn’t my day. The warlord Fahim runs things up there.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I hold up the palm of my gunless hand to interrupt and tell Wais I had dinner with the UN people last night, mostly Irish and Aussie. They tell me they can’t go overland, it’s too dangerous. They fly up to Mazar or over to Herat.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Jack, the drunk on my left, calls for another beer and tells me some bullshit story of his heroics in Bosnia. Then he says, let me ask you something. When you drive around a bend in the mountains and three AKs are pointing at your windshield, what are you going to do? Maybe you better ask your driver. I don’t like this guy, but he has a point.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">A German in his late twenties sits across from me. A motorcyclist, reckless and robbed twice, he tells us his story. His government, he says, pulled strings to get him across the Friendship Bridge up north, after he had camped out there for a week, embarrassing the Uzbeks. He whines: they stole everything. He orders a beer and pays in cash.</div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I’m not leaving, says a defiant Wais to no one.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Past a gaggle of heavily armed, turbaned guards in the lobby—not one under fifty, I walk outside for some air. A line of black SUVs are parked in front of the hotel, bumper to bumper. The guards had just come. I hadn’t noticed the SUVs earlier.</div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Evening grays gather, soften storefront shapes in moonlight. Dust tamped down below the mountain tops and usual stars. The air better now, breathable.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Tomorrow I’ll walk away from this, down Chicken Street, past the antique shops, while men are pushed against mud walls and packages are pawed open and gun turrets turn accusingly in green armored vehicles.</div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p> </o:p>I go back in. My place held by a near-empty beer mug.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">-- <b>Took place in 2003</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">--<b> originally blogged January 27, 2013</b></div>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-72582446686599356242022-11-30T14:19:00.001-05:002022-11-30T19:21:18.250-05:00Pushcart Nomination<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxIN4O6UsbyWQ_K_YmRg8ZxUAoruAPlKVwK7wk7_gOuNiBlxcKM9II-EUwj7Q0m2EPu345_VziEOUsr5RvjIpRdxcPlw7SpsyOKAaf5xb737Ap46VfTvYP-aqSXpIPOjhxii2fsgtFPbY-EF0i2vys8Mp9-dxAIXRmZxA2wCvwux_5odgmhRem1957" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="317" data-original-width="212" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjxIN4O6UsbyWQ_K_YmRg8ZxUAoruAPlKVwK7wk7_gOuNiBlxcKM9II-EUwj7Q0m2EPu345_VziEOUsr5RvjIpRdxcPlw7SpsyOKAaf5xb737Ap46VfTvYP-aqSXpIPOjhxii2fsgtFPbY-EF0i2vys8Mp9-dxAIXRmZxA2wCvwux_5odgmhRem1957" width="161" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Thank you to the editors of Ibbetson Street-- poetry editor Harris Gardner, as well as Lawrence Kessenich, and Ravi Yelamanchili, for nominating me for a Pushcart Prize for a poem published in 2022. The award is actually made in 2023. The other nominees are Charles Coe, Claire Scott, Joyce B. Lazarus, Ruth Hoberman, and Deborah Leipziger. Here is the link: http://<a href="http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2022/11/ibbetson-street-pushcart-nominees-for.html">dougholder.blogspot.com/2022/11/ibbetson-street-pushcart-nominees-for.html</a></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-56029054530171108162022-11-10T21:54:00.001-05:002022-11-11T08:13:33.688-05:00Veterans Day<p> </p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 24px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative;">Veterans Day 2022</h3><div class="post-header" style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10.8px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em;"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-4175275146721818038" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 650px;">Veterans Day 2022<br /><div class="post-header" style="font-size: 11.88px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em;"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-930626288154403243" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 14.52px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 650px;"><br /><img src="http://gcaggiano.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/clear-the-way-1242.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(255, 255, 255); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px;" /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eWvdf_51Iq0" style="color: black; text-decoration-line: none;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eWvdf_51Iq0</a><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDaQfLFHYjI" style="color: black; text-decoration-line: none;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDaQfLFHYjI</a><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VktJNNKm3B0" style="color: black; text-decoration-line: none;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VktJNNKm3B0</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_kC5ZkEIt8" style="color: black; text-decoration-line: none;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_kC5ZkEIt8</a><br /><br /><h2 class="title" itemprop="name" style="font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 1em; position: relative;">My Boy Jack -- <em>by Rudyard Kipling</em></h2><div style="margin-top: 20px; min-height: 570px;"><div class="KonaBody"><i>1914-1918</i><br /><br />'Have you news of my boy Jack?'<br /><i>Not this tide.</i><br />'When d'you think that he'll come back?'<br /><i>Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.</i><br />'Has anyone else had word of him?'<br /><i>Not this tide.<br />For what is sunk will hardly swim,<br />Not with this wind blowing and this tide.</i><br />'Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?'<br /><i>None this tide,<br />Nor any tide,<br />Except he did not shame his kind-<br />Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.<br />Then hold your head up all the more,<br />This tide,<br />And every tide;<br />Because he was the son you bore,<br />And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!</i></div></div></div></div>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-38529276420683086192022-11-10T21:37:00.001-05:002022-11-10T21:42:22.769-05:00Labor Organizer<p> </p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 24px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative;">Apropos of Nothing</h3><div class="post-header" style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 10.8px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em;"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1017206554480260765" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 650px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4G45uIUzScR0DSX8sII940KeokPjZihG2HZhdLlFsMeLPtbnjuxdjptKNF0tOKBmVsWAL1wiXyF-iJZMsC3_8jCEB9nH1am1ZQTEO9eGo89y6L2j3aMcydMeG9dwTnO9qbiy4oQN1-4/s1600/Joe_hill002%5B1%5D.jpg" style="clear: left; color: black; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4G45uIUzScR0DSX8sII940KeokPjZihG2HZhdLlFsMeLPtbnjuxdjptKNF0tOKBmVsWAL1wiXyF-iJZMsC3_8jCEB9nH1am1ZQTEO9eGo89y6L2j3aMcydMeG9dwTnO9qbiy4oQN1-4/s320/Joe_hill002%5B1%5D.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(255, 255, 255); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="211" /></a></div><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre>My will is easy to decide
For I have nothing to divide
My kin don't need to weep and moan
Moss does not cling to a rolling stone
My body? oh, if I could choose
I would to ashes it reduce
And let the merry breezes blow
My dust to where some flowers grow
Perhaps some fading flower then
Would soon rise up and grow green again
This is my last and final will
Good luck to all of you,
Joe Hill</pre><pre>Labor organizer. IWW Wobbly.</pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre></pre><pre>Executed in November of 1915, Salt lake City, Utah. </pre><pre>Claimed he wouldn't be caught dead in Utah. </pre></div>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-82600675448523353962022-11-04T03:17:00.002-04:002022-11-04T04:44:00.110-04:00Three Untethered Psalms Composed by John Faustus and Playing Pinball at the All-Souls Lounge Published<p> Two of my poems, Three Untethered Psalms by John Faustus and Playing Pinball at the All-Souls Lounge have just been published by the Lothlorien Poetry Journal. Much thanks to the editor, Strider Marcus Jones. Here is the link: https://<a href="http://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2022/11/two-poems-by-dennis-daly.html">lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2022/11/two-poems-by-dennis-daly.html</a></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-67852779438873727582022-10-16T08:03:00.001-04:002022-10-16T08:05:12.998-04:00My Poem Happy Hour at the All-Souls Lounge published by North of Oxford<p>My poem Happy Hour at the All-Souls Lounge was just published by North of Oxford (Philadelphia). Thank you to the editor, Diane Sahms-Guarnieri. Here is the link: <a href="https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2022/10/16/happy-hour-at-the-all-souls-lounge-by-dennis-daly/">https://northofoxford.wordpress.com/2022/10/16/happy-hour-at-the-all-souls-lounge-by-dennis-daly/</a> </p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-48514372318321781842022-10-13T12:06:00.000-04:002022-10-13T12:06:46.795-04:00Review of Annapurna Poems by Yuyutsu Sharma<p><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Are poets good
for nothing? Plato certainly didn’t trust them. He believed that poets make
things happen, but they are immoral, specializing in the pleasure of illusion
and falsity. Mimesis (imitation), poetry’s stock in trade, moreover, corrupts
society’s youth. For Plato philosophy (truth-telling), rather than poetry is
the real deal. On the other end of the spectrum Archibald MacLeish, taking his
cue from Aristotle, argues in his Ars Poetica that “A poem should not mean/ But
be.” He believed in the aesthetic value above all, art for art’s sake.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Between these
two extremes of active ethical change and passive aesthetic stasis there is a
third possibility—poets, through poetry, guide their readers to rarified
perceptions of existing phenomena and, through them, unlimited, sometimes
prototypical, potentialities. For more of my review of Annapurna Poems go here: <a href="http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2022/10/annapurna-poems-poems-new-and-collected.html">http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2022/10/annapurna-poems-poems-new-and-collected.html</a></span></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-86091643531763748312022-08-24T08:10:00.000-04:002022-08-24T08:10:28.087-04:00Review of Even on Parnassus by Lawrence Cottrell<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Make it new,” “make
it new” the modernist critics and poets admonished their contemporaries and
successors. Pound with his Chinese ideograms and imagist poems, Yeats with his
Rosicrucian metaphors, Ginsberg with his countercultural and beat
sensibilities, Elizabeth Bishop with her polished, somewhat distant take, Robert
Duncan with his field philosophy of language, and arguably Gerard Manley
Hopkins (who predated the rest) with his sprung rhythm did. Others,
interpreting “new” as prose-like or accessibility, opted for the confessional angle
(think Robert Lowell, Anne Sexton, and Sylvia Plath) or the immediacy of the
famous (some would say infamous) Iowa Writers Workshop, which in the persons of
Donald Justice, John Berryman, or Rita Dove championed stylish plain-spokenness
in both formal and free verse. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Occasionally, a
book of poetry materializes out of today’s ether that appears to be genuinely “new”
with attributes not often glimpsed in this elitist, ever-dwindling, literary
society. Even On Parnassus by Lawrence Cottrell is such a book. Cottrell’s
eccentric individualism seems to drive this collection with a unique diction,
which surprises, and with unusual wordage stirred into the fast-flowing
cadences. For more of my review of Even on Parnassus go here:</span><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> <a href="http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2022/08/even-on-parnassus-by-lawrence-cottrell.html">http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2022/08/even-on-parnassus-by-lawrence-cottrell.html</a></span><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3115407736755221608.post-43542523064751806472022-06-29T16:14:00.000-04:002022-06-29T16:14:16.052-04:00Review of Far Cry Poems by Tom Daley<p><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Mischief meets
elegiac mournfulness in Tom Daley’s new chapbook, Far Cry, in which the poet
summons up the ghost of a close but estranged gay friend and searches through evocative
imagery and shared memories for an understanding, a resolution, and, most of
all, a final embrace. Unexpected religious and erotic juxtapositions deliver both
edgy wit and good-natured humor.</span><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype", serif; font-size: 12pt;">And,
most impressively, throughout this poetic sequence, Daley utilizes impeccable
word choices that result in very high-level, almost objectified, confessional
pieces. In short, Daley’s diction sparkles.</span> For more of my review go here: <a href="http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2022/06/far-cry-poems-by-tom-daley.html">http://dougholder.blogspot.com/2022/06/far-cry-poems-by-tom-daley.html</a></p>Dennis Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022945376316607859noreply@blogger.com0