Angielski
Poetry. In Kimberly Lyons's poetry of perception, it is the unmoving objects that do the striking when there's a collision--the floor hits the spoon, the small black pan hits the 'big kosher salt' that's falling into it. The resulting energy sends words zigzagging and meaning flashing like lightning. This makes sense, since these poems take place in the thunderstorm where the cold sciences of optics and physics meet psychology -- object relations -- in all its warm folds of association and sublimation. In the annals of the irreal, Giorgio de Chirico's monument paintings and Joseph Ceravolo's early poems also suffuse this cold light with heartbeat. What's absent in the book is Absence, for although the affect of these poems seems to be low-key, it's really just the tense relaxation of a poet of the ecstatic magic of paying attention. The depths of all the apparently empty spaces are filled: with music, with light -- Jordan Davis.
