...this is pure poetry...not of music, nor
words...with something of meaning...with stunning conclusions...Leftwich
has created here a living entity...not to be missed for its reality...
--Peter Ganick
* * *
from "Sense"
In the unusual poetry of the visible the poetical line begins to vouchsafe
a discernible cloud church where poem are interred in a field of energy,
years mouth of these nouns oral becoming torso, and complexity hardens
to product with that, each trying to narrate the onset of a poem, however
one might arrive agonized at the music of discovery, the ears' views devolve
before the piety of beauty, since the work of beauty is its yearning to
incorporate. Better purity than understanding kindled with a musical wind.
A new kind of freedom outside stillness and hurt by the investments of
understanding. So gradually renascent poems reshape this the sown radiance
of the garden its own medium stirred by embolic humus its rhythm a double
prototype of withered concern and natural doubt not other nor for that
matter nothing but atoms writhing arch midwife succubus formal within
historical excrement therefore it became as no surprise hill mired in
sympathetic fascination as early known as mundane astral acres shown each
messianic self solely whatever justified hermetic contradiction into the
dawn of times. Mostly the same. Herbal mostly verbs as such havens normal
accordance to the richness of the works are a serial whole. Personally
lyrical thirst leaks through. One last poetical verb as expectation. Gyrates
on the tension between that and if. Tome under revenant singsthe graphical
moment. The unintelligible sickness of sense. To witness by negation the
sheared hollow of this space.
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