Amy King's first full-length collection, Antidotes for an Alibi, insists that we examine the deceptive clarity of our actions and the goals that motivate us. How does one actually get from "A" to "B"-and is there ever really a "B"? What color is the white space between "A" and "B"? Upon closer inspection, surface realities reveal themselves to be porous and fragile, layered with textures and grains that lead the eye on varying pathways. So what are we to do in a world of newspaper narratives that instruct us toward tidy endings, murmuring that such endings are possible and even inevitable?
These poems greet us with leaking giraffes, dogs that lick lye, the Lone Ranger, the inhabitants of Dishwater Island, an unmarried wife and a Sikh cab driver, all acting within a familiar environment of telephone messages, factory work, walks through woods, red robins and hummingbirds, war zones and American histories. Both the characters and their shifting frameworks combine and overlap to point out the strangeness we tend to overlook for clarity's sake. King wants us to reconsider the possibilities of current events, to see that Truth is no longer a series of fixed notations in black and white, but is a shape-shifting, multi-faceted chain of perspectives. Her poetry celebrates the multiplicities that sing within the surface of every object and action; she aims at delectable surges, so that readers may touch and revel in the uncertainties of a complex world in motion.
I admire Amy King's poetry tremendously for the way it manipulates apparently plain language into thoughtful audacities. But her work is never in love with its own spiky cleverness. Quite the opposite: it is marked, even at its most pointed or witty, by an austere refusal to giggle at its own surprises. I first came to understand King's poetry, quite appropriately, by the accident of seeing what the British call "English mosaic" on a lamppost at the northeast corner of Eighth Street and Broadway in Manhattan. "English mosaic" is what happens when someone willfully creative takes pieces of porcelain, china, earthenware ? ordinary, rare, or irreplaceable ? smashes them (that violence being essential to rebirth) and forces the pretty shards into new relations to one another. That lamppost seems the perfect tangible representation of King's work, which takes up the tactile and moral world we perceive, holds it tenderly for a moment in a cherishing embrace ? the better to dash it against a hard surface and rearrange the new fragments in strange, indelible ways. Reading King's poems makes the eyes smart in every sense of the phrase: readers are compelled to see as possible juxtapositions they never would have envisioned on their own. "English mosaic" also describes the cool fun King has with plain nickel words, artfully reshuffled. Hers is not a surrealist's art ? she does not embrace chaos ? but she does want to make readers feel that the comfortable rug and chairs they sit on have somehow grown ambulatory and are threatening to walk outside into the yard to sniff the air. Nothing is quite safe; nothing remains the same ? deliciously so.
-Michael Steinman has written and edited six books, including The Happiness of Getting It Down Right and The Element of Lavishness, which was selected as a NYT Notable Book in 2001.
Amy King grew up in Georgia and now spends much of her time in Brooklyn and Baltimore. She teaches English at Nassau Community College on Long Island, and her first collection, Antidotes for an Alibi, is available through Blazevox [books].
detailed home cleaning Park Ridge ..Says Mr. Dennis Siluk, when asked to review his poetry... Read More
Writing poetry is an art, a way of expression, finding... Read More
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (Peru; in English and Spanish)In what... Read More
The Poet's Corner [Three poem/ see review of poetry under... Read More
[As Told by the Last] King: it was in the... Read More
LIFE IS A FANTASY!A pink-eyed rabbit, fuzzy whiteHops in bedrooms... Read More
The Incubus' Flash-lightHe looked inside my head And found a... Read More
Have you ever read the lyrics of a Simon and... Read More
Twilight, was now beginning. As forthe sun, it was down-down... Read More
A poetic comment that just welled up inside my head... Read More
There once lived an old man and his goodwife On... Read More
Phantom of the Rocks[Huancayo, Peru]Night falls deepUpon the traveler!Low, over... Read More
Part OneI tell you a legend of long ago Of... Read More
Mother's Day Poetry,I'm Sorry Mom!I'm sorry for the troubles ... Read More
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [Summer of 2005]Daybreak by Lake Superior... Read More
War bombs may explode demolishing man and land. Hurricanes may... Read More
So Many Einstein'sThe morning mist, insists there is a God.... Read More
There I sat, ninety-five degree weatherOutside; the bookstore caf?, was... Read More
Grandpa's House [The ole Real House]The house needed painting Sun-blistered... Read More
Most of my poems are written late at night, often,... Read More
Note: written after seeing the little adobe 16th century church... Read More
Contract of DeathI heard today, the preacher say: "Daniel has... Read More
Atahualpa's Game [Peruvian]Sometimes, it's not wise To share your wisdom... Read More
Poems have different cores, or so I believe, and can... Read More
You make me smile like I've seldom done before You... Read More
express cleaning service Des Plaines ..In early fall, in Minnesota, the rain falls, falls, In... Read More
"All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling."--Oscar WildePeople write poetry... Read More
Writing innovative poetry, the kind of poetry that reputable literary... Read More
So many looked to you for inspiration,Unlikely hero for the... Read More
"For this reason poetry is something more philosophical and more... Read More
Ded?cate to Antonio Castillo. L. Of. Los Andes UniversitarioOde to:The... Read More
Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stone Thu... Read More
I cannot bear to think of when you will be... Read More
There are many times I set up barriers and walls,... Read More
I want to get closeI am afraid.Afraid of what... Read More
Have you ever thought about how nice it would be... Read More
A Poem - By Lorraine KemberIt was a day like... Read More
Advance: Mr. Dennis Siluk's poetry can have its fire-hearted twists:... Read More
Most of my poems are written late at night, often,... Read More
Since Mohamed Ali?then Cassius Clay?announced that he had written "The... Read More
AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa... Read More
What can I do to keep this world in its... Read More
YOU MIGHT THINK I AM STRONGI THINK YOU GOT IT... Read More
I am not the one I was before yesterday.I cannot... Read More
It was not me as I am now. It was... Read More
Do not be afraid to shine. This world needs what... Read More
It's dark, it's cold, its' just six thirty,thoughts of sleep... Read More
Isn't that what they say?But what does that mean?There's no... Read More
Grandpa's House [The ole Real House]The house needed painting Sun-blistered... Read More
When I am climbing up, you are stepping down. When... Read More
Poetry |