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to cleave: poems
Full of sensory detail and written with astute observation, to cleave searches for and lays bare the mythic moments one finds even in the most ordinary life. In this stunning collection Rockman explores the themes of aging; our relationships to our bodies; marriage; and the surprises, griefs, and joys of motherhood. Each of the seven sections urges readers to view their daily lives with renewed curiosity and wonder.
- GenresPoetry
104 pages, Paperback
Published August 15, 2019
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
October 10, 2019
Barbara Rockman’s latest collection, to cleave, is stunning in its language and remarkable in its collection of emotions and keen observations about womanhood, motherhood, partnership and lovers, writing and teaching. These poems touch the heart and mind.
Two of my favorites are “Dear Husband from Afar” and “Dear Wife of a Thousand Years” (pages 66-69), in which the narrator reveals a long marriage through moments of awe, surprise, and appreciation.
From “Dear Husband from Afar”:
Husband of multiple decades, I promise nothing, know not my intention
or my capacity for retention, tenir; in French, I learned the tenses. In marriage,
I need a lesson. I am a mess of nerves, worry that what retains us—house,
health insurance, daughters grown, the dogless rooms—is fiction.
This wound scroll, flimsy, thin, and winged, weighs less than what I conjure
our current love, and yet, from its rent fabric, a thread might stitch us a fresh sleeve;
not undo, but do us: a button at its cuff and so,
In Hope,
Adieu
And in answer to that poem, this, from “Dear Wife of a Thousand Years”:
What is this Shakespearean lavish marriage chat? I think we’re okay. I
love you and it’s great you’re off writing in the jungle haze. Hey, have
you seen the egret? ibis? a hawk? That river is famed for night creatures
and burrowers which, I admit, I’m not but I think I’ll clean my closet
this weekend and you’ll be surprised.
…
I miss you, mistress of the long-winded reverie. How about that? Reverie.
And I like the “button at the cuff” touch. You must have buttoned those
little cuff buttons for eight months after my stroke. I was embarrassed.
I love you way more than I love the Dodgers,
Your Hub of a Thousand Years
These two poems so beautifully capture the luscious imagination inherent in all of the poems in to cleave, not to mention the daily notations all of our hearts make, knowing and unknowing the people we love.
Buy it, borrow it, read and ponder to cleave. It will feed your soul.
Two of my favorites are “Dear Husband from Afar” and “Dear Wife of a Thousand Years” (pages 66-69), in which the narrator reveals a long marriage through moments of awe, surprise, and appreciation.
From “Dear Husband from Afar”:
Husband of multiple decades, I promise nothing, know not my intention
or my capacity for retention, tenir; in French, I learned the tenses. In marriage,
I need a lesson. I am a mess of nerves, worry that what retains us—house,
health insurance, daughters grown, the dogless rooms—is fiction.
This wound scroll, flimsy, thin, and winged, weighs less than what I conjure
our current love, and yet, from its rent fabric, a thread might stitch us a fresh sleeve;
not undo, but do us: a button at its cuff and so,
In Hope,
Adieu
And in answer to that poem, this, from “Dear Wife of a Thousand Years”:
What is this Shakespearean lavish marriage chat? I think we’re okay. I
love you and it’s great you’re off writing in the jungle haze. Hey, have
you seen the egret? ibis? a hawk? That river is famed for night creatures
and burrowers which, I admit, I’m not but I think I’ll clean my closet
this weekend and you’ll be surprised.
…
I miss you, mistress of the long-winded reverie. How about that? Reverie.
And I like the “button at the cuff” touch. You must have buttoned those
little cuff buttons for eight months after my stroke. I was embarrassed.
I love you way more than I love the Dodgers,
Your Hub of a Thousand Years
These two poems so beautifully capture the luscious imagination inherent in all of the poems in to cleave, not to mention the daily notations all of our hearts make, knowing and unknowing the people we love.
Buy it, borrow it, read and ponder to cleave. It will feed your soul.
April 7, 2020
Barbara Rockman's "To Cleave" is an amazingly beautiful, poignant, powerful book. Here we find what we seldom do in a collection-a careful eye that truly sees both the natural world and the very human; a craft that seeks just the right word, not just for sense but for sound and thus a music so often missing in contemporary poetry, rich in assonance, alliteration, quiet and subtle half-rhymes, never overbearing, always true.
Sections seem devoted to a backpacking trip, her childhood, raising her daughters, natural disasters like Fukushima, married life, love, loss, and love again. The emotion is not wrought with false notes or strained surrealism. The images are carefully chose, metaphor and symbolic truths living below their quiet surface. The domestic life blends with the natural world. A certain knowledge of geology and biology adds fullness. There are poems where she sews herself into oneness with that natural world. The bittersweet taste of death and loss add savor.
This is the finest collection of poetry by a contemporary writer that I have read in too long a time. If you love reading poetry, this is a meal and a dessert you will relish. If you are poet, as am I, you will be filled with that positive envy--the one that drives you back to trying to sing with words the way Rockman does in these poems. To be read and reread, I am certain.
Sections seem devoted to a backpacking trip, her childhood, raising her daughters, natural disasters like Fukushima, married life, love, loss, and love again. The emotion is not wrought with false notes or strained surrealism. The images are carefully chose, metaphor and symbolic truths living below their quiet surface. The domestic life blends with the natural world. A certain knowledge of geology and biology adds fullness. There are poems where she sews herself into oneness with that natural world. The bittersweet taste of death and loss add savor.
This is the finest collection of poetry by a contemporary writer that I have read in too long a time. If you love reading poetry, this is a meal and a dessert you will relish. If you are poet, as am I, you will be filled with that positive envy--the one that drives you back to trying to sing with words the way Rockman does in these poems. To be read and reread, I am certain.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews