Dede Wilson accomplishes what few poets attempt. She wrestles grief to the ground, turning it into song. Her poems are unflinching. From "...the shawl of darkness / the collar of grief," she awakens you "...to branch and birdsong / the measure of bells." She translates a pesky ringing in the ears to "...secrets the kettle is begging to spill / Apples singing as they're peeled." Though her lovely, lyrical lines ring of courage, she is quick to remind you "...how I break at the knees." This collection translates an ordinary ...
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Dede Wilson accomplishes what few poets attempt. She wrestles grief to the ground, turning it into song. Her poems are unflinching. From "...the shawl of darkness / the collar of grief," she awakens you "...to branch and birdsong / the measure of bells." She translates a pesky ringing in the ears to "...secrets the kettle is begging to spill / Apples singing as they're peeled." Though her lovely, lyrical lines ring of courage, she is quick to remind you "...how I break at the knees." This collection translates an ordinary life into a life lived under the stars. Unforgettable.
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