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"Lesle Lewis's new poems give, and take, the unit of the meaning of the sentence. She rhymes with Michael Burkard, Robert Creeley, Mary Ruefle, Jean Valentine, James Tate, Fanny Howe. Who speaks here represents an esoteric, doubting, canny, coherent, chemical self which wakes-sleeps-utters all from the same mouth with wayward, roving, strabismic wall-eye. It is the generous, centering indeterminacy we may have been missing"--
""'On a day fresh as a haircut' writes Beth Roberts, 'I left the family for the field. / I looked hard for the body.' This is a book of setting out, of looking for the body--familial, sexual, spiritual, poetic--from which we were somehow, long ago, severed. These poems inhabit, unflinchingly, the "invented and inflicted holes" of a consciousness that is by turns grieving, ironic, self-lacerating, celebratory. Roberts' faith in the renovating powers of lyric tradition is as anxious as it is necessary. This book is gorgeous and true." (Mark Levine)"--
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