The similes in Leo Racicot's Alone in the Yard are so seamless, you won't realize that the poet's diction has caught you unawares and pulled you gently into seeing what he is seeing, feeling what he is feeling, understanding what his heart knows. His heart knows pain relieved, and returned. In "Joe's Magic Garden," the poet writes "no one worked as well/at getting me/to laugh/at making gold/of my loneliness." He knows the magic of lives interwoven, often unaccountably. Read "Julia Child Hates Me" and you will be transported to a place where famous people and the rest of us spend some time together in a precious, if quite ordinary, setting. "I am only myself/When I am by myself," Leo writes, in a very short poem called "If The Stars." It is a major poet's self. If you love words, the use of words, the imagery and function of words-and a unique world of a fox fur stole, Julia Child and, unaccountably Auschwitz--your mind will dance to the myriad cadences of poetic diction in this modest book by a major talent.
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