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Open Books: The Goods - Archive
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New Books - 06/04
Primer of the Obsolete by Diane Glancy ($14.95 Univ. of Mass.)
In her new collection Ms. Glancy illuminates the mix of her Cherokee and white worlds by retrieving "the primitiveness that was in my family. The roughness. The texture of old voices." Inspired by an exhibit of work by self-taught artists, she has written strange and vibrant poems -- some in a sort of dialect -- that draw on the Bible, tribal beliefs, American history, and contemporary American culture. "Here I am a little buffalo," she writes in "The Buffalo at the No Wait Café," "wiping tables with my tail. It was the only / job I could get what with my size. They killed so many of us."

The Raving Fortune by Noelle Kocot ($14.95 Four Way)
Ms. Kocot writes, in a manner reminiscent of Frank O'Hara, careening, buoyant poems. "Live wire/wild card, I hold you up, libational, / The dangling factor in a deep velour equation,.." Her heart's on her sleeve, her joys and sadnesses are ferocious and compelling, and she can write a quite elegant image. Sometimes her work is unfathomably dense, but that's the worthwhile risk one takes in such compulsive work. Included in this book are two exuberant sestinas, the end words for one of which are rotisserie, gravity, corrupted, stars, mission, and hoax. Ms. Kocot's work is unbridled and my, does it gallop.

So Quietly the Earth by David Lee ($15 Copper Canyon)
In a departure from his much loved vernacular story poems, Mr. Lee's new collection offers lyrical poems occupying and occupied with the desert Southwest. It's a generous book, at 120 pages, with poems ranging from a series of two- to four-line dialogues on the nature of desert reality ("Do you think the rocks are listening to us? / I don't know. Do rocks hear? / The ones that are alive do.") to a remarkable, long, multi-voiced meditation on western Americans' vanities framed in the mind of a person up for an early morning run through the desert. The book's opening poem, "Canyonlands Requiem," sets Mr. Lee's rich tone, ending, "Having only this remaining / as my strength / now I lay me down these words / washed in the dreamshadows / of hope, contradiction, and goodbye."

Generations by Pattiann Rogers ($18 Penguin)
"I am the heaven of auguries." Indeed, Ms. Rogers' history of writing poems that meld the mortal world with the immortal, the particular with the whole, gives her work the sense of the seer. These new poems continue and expand her enchanting work. For those of you unfamiliar with Ms. Rogers, she most often shuns the first-person -- the quotation above ends a poem in which a monk slips from monastery to evening star. She certainly sees eternity in a grain of sand, and celebrates the imagination. In her poem "Oh Mother, Oh Father (I Dream We Are Cats Beneath Falling Leaves In An Autumn Wind)," the leaves instantly become "sailing bird skeletons.. / / within easy reach.. Even / the cockeyed, off-key leaping / of the insane is rewarded." Her poems are delightful to read, her vision is transporting.
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