Robert Wrigley

[b:The True Account of Myself as a Bird|60473903|The True Account of Myself as a Bird (Penguin Poets)|Robert Wrigley|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1645535458l/60473903._SX50_.jpg|95302706] by [a:Robert Wrigley|171109|Robert Wrigley|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/user/u_50x66-632230dc9882b4352d753eedf9396530.png], who lives in Idaho and has a talent for poems about high heeled red shoes, birds, the countryside or the machinery his father used:
show more the mountain's last drift of snow
resembling the back of a sounding whale. Hear the thrum of the rigging,
Daggoo? Hear its profoundest woo, its sensible gobbledy-goo
and doo-wop, the boo-hoos of the spheres, by vectors and veers,
by tacks and refractal jabberings, taking us deeper into the weirdness
of the ghost sea those prairie hills were the bottom of once,
this nowhere we shall not be returning from.
Draw the lines! Assume the crow's nest, Pip. This ship
sails on music and wind, and away with birds. show less

I didn't like this collection as well as "Anato." my of Melancholy and Other Poems." Still good poetry, but it didn't grab me as well, and one too many of them seemed to involve entrails or feces. I realize both are facts of life in the animal world, but they didn't strike me as the best fodder for poesy.

Wrigley's poetry is full of rich imagery, much of it from nature, and he combines this with a subtle wit.