Michael McGriff

In "Early Hour," Michael McGriff weaves his wife into the world of nature around her, using imagery that in itself would not be erotic to describe the emotional and physical love he has for her. These are not simple poems, though the language is accessible and real. Death lingers at the center as well as at the edges, but the knowledge of mortality makes his love grater and not bitter.

So many poets today strain to juxtapose images in an attempt at some kind of surrealism--and most often show more fail. McGriff's imagery seems right even as it causes you to gasp at what has been gathered together in a sentence or a phrase:

the outline of your face
is sky-written in the black loam
of thunderheads.

Another example:

because the river's teeth
still gnash
against [the horse's] flank
and its eyes
stil have the luster
of black china
glowing black-bright
in the glass hutch of memory

The imagery is both from nature and domestic life, putting himself, his wife, their relationship and their daily living deep into the natural world--as it should be.

A fine a small collection to be savored. show less

Michael McGriff's fine collection of seemingly autobiographical poems is well-worth spending some time with. Rich in common language and imagery, hand-wrought like the work he alludes to, and filled with imagery from nature and the land he obviously loves, there are times when the emotions seem oevrwrought---but they are rare. Surreal juxtapositions of imagery interrupt the more prosaic narratives to surreal and synaesthesiac effect.

In all there is truth in these poems that try and fail to show more "explain the wounded alphabet/dragging itself through the groves of ash." show less