A volume of poems that explore life’s subtle connections.
Divided into five parts, Culver’s collection presents a quiet symphony of imagery. Many poems are dedicated to the poet’s family members past and present as well as friends and other poets, emphasizing the invisible yet vital bonds between people. His poetry is satisfyingly elemental; natural forces blend with the movement of one’s mind, as in “Prelude,” when winter “stops/ the brain’s fragile traffic,” or when the end of the day comes in “How It Happens Sometimes,” like “an animal that wants / your blood, that wants / to wear your skin / like a summer dress.” Sometimes, the presence of animals evokes an epiphany; while growing increasingly intimate with a lover, the subject of “In Early Spring” “thinks of a family / of white-tailed deer crossing the wetlands near / the mouth of the river. Now his hand along / her inner thigh.” A sensual earthiness permeates many poems, and Culver is confident as he expresses his ideas economically without losing their potency: “his wife / now descending naked in a postcoital, orgastic, self-satisfied shambles” (“Digit”). The volume even contains a ballad that maturely describes a couple in a polyamorous relationship in which a father waits at home caring for his children while their mother is out with her lover: “The rest we leave for flame to burn / or for the ever-turning screw / to mate the truths we never learn” (“The Song of the Open Marriage”). A couple of Culver’s poems incorporate acrostics, while another directly borrows the syllabic structure of the Japanese tanka. However, even without knowledge of these specific forms, readers will feel the power of the poet’s succinct use of image and metaphor.
A powerful collection of contemporary poetry that’s both carnal and full of regret.