AN EXCITING NEW AMERICAN POET HARVESTS FIELDS OF SOUND FROM THE SEEDS OF HER BUCOLIC VOCABULARY.
And the once bright and now crumbling populism of Marxists, poets, and folksingers springs vividly back to life as realism, idealism, and nostalgia do battle amongst the silos and ditchweed..
The birds do rise like bombs. / Dahlias do bloom like tumors.
Lamps should smolder.
In Boyer\'s heartland, Surfaces should be worn.
And you will lick my Laura Ingalls.
And the bar will smell of IBP.
Political and iconoclastic, Anne Boyer\'s poems dally in pastoral camp and a dizzying, delightful array of sights and sounds born from the dust of the Kansas plains where dinner for two is cooked in Fire King and served on depression ware, and where bawdy instructions for a modern Home on the Range read: Mix a drink of stock lot: vermouth and the water table.
The Romance of Happy Workers swaggers through a world of cowboys, conquistadors, comrades, and housewives with mock-Russian lyric sequences and Keatsian swoon.
AN EXCITING NEW AMERICAN POET HARVESTS FIELDS OF SOUND FROM THE SEEDS OF HER BUCOLIC VOCABULARY
