Sheer poetic brilliance from Ireland on this historic day for its people. Do read beyond the first poem; it keeps getting better. The poem “Mass” intrigues and delivers.
Review: Poet Elaine Feeney employs mythical imagery but roots the reader, clear-eyed and seeing, in today’s realities. This posted collection snags emotion through shades of rich cultural color to present startling kernels of truth both local and universal. With unpredictable trajectories, Feeney’s poems of oddly blossoming ideas marry feminist flavor to a gritty sensibility recalling for me Baudelaire’s “Les Fleurs du Mal.” A poetic body of fresh, clever turns of phrase and challenging political power, the work proves bracingly raw, cohesive in exploring fragments, and beautiful in the dark.
I just bought Feeney’s 2014 collection “The Radio Was Gospel” sight unseen–today.
Charles Bukowski is my Dad
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