Monday, September 14, 2009

Reunions from Blue Hour Press

The spring of Brooklyn Copeland’s Reunions is of birds and bees, but far from the picture book couplets that conjures; these birds, blind from direct sunlight, loop in disorientation, and the bees, stingers firmly attached, travel in packs. Copeland, in swaying, tangling lineation, pinpoints spring’s inherent seediness, that its green is as much flora as fake jewelry, that its relationships, like plant-life, grow weed-like—ugly, stubbornly, everywhere. Everything that can twist—roots, tongues, limbs—does, making the pleasure of the poem the untangling.

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