Recently I started reading a new book of poems, On Speaking Terms, by Connie Wanek, one of my favorite poets. I like how Maxine Kumin describes Wanek's work: "Her carefully crafted poems have a delicious artlessness about them, even as they take us in and lift our neck hairs with the unexpected aptness of her metaphors."
Connie takes common objects--Scrabble, Monopoly, lipstick--and creates uncommon, fresh images. She lives in Duluth, and she explores the landscapes and severe winters of the upper Midwest along with signs of spring's return. In her poem "Ice Out," she writes, "The south wind discovers a loose thread / and winter begins to unravel. / The first back and blue butterfly / materializes. The second. / They find each other. / The snow fort is in ruins. / Stacks of ammunition / have melted into the grass."
If you haven't already read Connie Wanek's work, I encourage you to find her poems and books.
Connie takes common objects--Scrabble, Monopoly, lipstick--and creates uncommon, fresh images. She lives in Duluth, and she explores the landscapes and severe winters of the upper Midwest along with signs of spring's return. In her poem "Ice Out," she writes, "The south wind discovers a loose thread / and winter begins to unravel. / The first back and blue butterfly / materializes. The second. / They find each other. / The snow fort is in ruins. / Stacks of ammunition / have melted into the grass."
If you haven't already read Connie Wanek's work, I encourage you to find her poems and books.
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