We go together like certain words
but you are also my sentence
This is a poet who is extremely interested in words and the ways they fit together. Her thought process, very often, is shaped by word-association: one word suggests another, either via rhyme, or accidental likeness (if puns are ever completely accidental), or ideas that connect them. Sometimes this affects single word choice, as "stock" in the poem "Deer" comes by way of "flowerbeds":
I tend flowerbeds
dreaming of a mother
Alice stands stock-still
Other times, it is more as if every word or phrase with a potential double meaning is a junction where the poem may wander off down some unexpected and often interesting byway:
maybe I could save up all the dust
in words and bookstores libraries
put it in the fog bank
an offshore account for tax avoidance
- "The Old Nubble Light Foghorn"
The minimalist punctuation is part of this: the less you use, the more possible meanings language acquires. Thus, in the ending of "The Doll's House",
I am apparentit would be possible to put a full stop either after "apparent" or after "write" and change the meaning radically – "I am apparent in the language I write" or " in the language I write there are no clocks". This happens fairly regularly in the collection; the result being not that one needs to choose one meaning, but that the poet can have it both ways.
in the language I write
there are no clocks
but I have time
There are times I feel left behind at some junction, while the poem careers off into the distance. In the opening five-poem sequence, "The Somnambulist Who Stood Still", I feel I am totally missing something. It isn't a matter of trying to tease out meaning so much as intent; I can't figure out what she is trying to do in it, to the extent that I can't even see anything linking the five poems. I am seeing the connections between words (mainly via sound, in this case) but whatever deeper connections there may be behind the word-games aren't getting across to me. By contrast, in one of my favourite poems in the collection, "Hades Has Gone To Ground", I can freewheel happily along with a thought-line that involves Kore (Persephone as maiden goddess) getting thoroughly mixed up with core, as in apple. Hades, at a loose end during one of his consort's summer absences, is a curiously engaging character:
Hades didn't know what to do
so he bought a white sliced pan and tinned fruit
he enjoyed trips to the local-shop-cum-post-office
and really only wanted a stamp
My other big favourite would have to be "Parable of a Polish Émigré". This plays with words too - try working out the number of possible meanings in
the waves lap
note a lapse
but it goes beyond that to something deeper. The thought-line is there, but is the kind you react to before you analyse it.
The Polish woman said;The collection's title, Homesick at Home, indicates a sense of alienation, of not-belonging, which perhaps comes through most strongly in this poem but is elsewhere too. It does feel a bit like reading an émigré poet, though she is not one – unless, perhaps, she feels most at home in the country of words.
you can't abandon me
now that I am dead.
I must go home.
I have lived
in white cities
and tall people