Read To Me Some Poem
by Maryli Tiemann and Alice Persons, Editors
Read Reviews and a sample here
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by Marita O'Neill in Animus
For those of you who have had the pleasure of hearing Nancy Henry read her poems, you will be delighted by her latest chapbook: Europe on $5 a Day.....Poem after poem in this book is filled with language and images that keep you on the edge of your seat--either from laughter or titillation. Though, what gives this collection its real life is Henry's intelligence, which imbues each poem with poignancy, openness, and a genuine compassion for the world and the people around her.
by Jalina Mhyana, in Rock Salt Plum
Erosion, Nancy A. Henry's latest chapbook by Moon Pie Press, is reminiscent of times past, before television and computers, a time when lovers might have spent nights rollicking through moonlit gardens or indulging in the heady pleasures of the boudoir.
On the bookcover, the word Erosion is divided into the words Eros and Ion. Ions are charged subatomic particles, unstable atoms that are either delirious with having too much of what they need, or even worse, not enough. An ion can only be at rest once it bonds with another.
It's an apt play on words. The title seems to be hinting that our yearning for physical and spiritual connection is foretold by our very atoms. Walt Whitman, a kindred spirit, wrote, "I am he that aches with amorous love; Does the earth gravitate? does not all matter, aching, attract all matter? So the body of me to all I meet or know."
These poems are imbued with a sensual honesty, inviting the reader to "be my Chagall lover / float with me above a small chaotic town / our silks and fingers tangled up together / in a storm of crabapple blossoms." Intimacy is evident in a breath, a whisper, the smell of a lover's pillow. This is the altar of the body, mind, and spirit; the small worlds that swell and crumble with a kiss.
May 18
It's snowing on the lilacs and the apple blossoms
goldfinches are puffed up in the branches
looking all pissed off.
The violets have folded up their faces,
the tulips have collapsed their scarlet cups,
nothng is receiving this insult with grace.
It's piling on the cars, it does NOT
melt on contact as we hope for
in the merry month of May, for after all
we are not so unreasonable
as to expect no snow at all
just please God, nothing that will stay.
You'd think we'd be out with our cameras
enjoying the novelty of snow on blossom
but no one is recording this, no one's smiling
as they scrape their windshield with
a cd case, pump gas red-handed without the
gloves they packed away three weeks ago,
take in hummingbird feeders now
two blocks of ruby ice.
I really don't feel like talking about this
at all right now, in fact, I hate to be rude
but please, if you don't mind,
just leave me alone.
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