Rain Violent: This is a book of poems that fits into your hands. Small poems crafted.
Ann Spiers. Prophet and reporter. An elder poet now. It seems odd to say that, but I have had her White Train broadside hanging in my house since 1986. “The white cars / racketing past / bending migrants / paralyzed / over asparagus shoots.”
Spiers walking trails. Her practice over time. Touching earth and sky. Polarities and white space. There is no ego in the poems, not a smidgen of ‘look what I can do,’ Practice and how to practice. That sky overcast.
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