-Max Garland, Wisconsin Poet Laureate 2013-2014, author of The Word We Use for It
I love this book filled with numinous objects of memory and daily life: a grandmother's rolling pin smelling of "Crisco and butter," Father's horns "upright/ silver bass and the curly/sousaphone." Mother's gold bridge, "Now around my neck, / a pendant . . ." I love the sanctification of the lake scape, landscape, of Wisconsin with its "cathedral of trees," and "more lakes than Minnesota," home to cardinals and Sandhill cranes, and frogs and fish. I hold with William Stafford who says, "Our best work derives merely from a continuity of our daily selves." And to Stafford's dictum, I would add the daily selves of our memory, and offer Ripple, Scar, and Story as proof, a terrific book by a poet at the height of her powers.
-Donna Hilbert, author of Threnody
The scars and stories that ripple through this book of gentle poems are centered mainly in the Midwest, with an occasional current reaching as far as California, where the poet lives now. Seeded with notes of resilience, I am Minerva, Athena and Brigit; "moving through memory, The music lived in his head, the tip of his tongue, the records stacked and dusty on the floor;" the majority of these poem focus on the past, back when tennis balls were white. Even-handed, but keen, is the sense of loss that stitches much of this book together. "...when cardinals arrive, They are a visit from the dead....There are no cardinals here. If you return, how will I know?"
-Ruth Bavetta, author of What's Left Over
Related Subjects
Poetry