America, America

I have always said that poets paint pictures using words and sounds (and sometimes shapes), creating unique word paintings. Tony Brinkley, in America, America with fermentable command demonstrates that the opposite is also true, that artists create poems using hues, shades, and forms (and sometimes words), as the subtitle suggests: "Poems with Words / Poems Without Words."

Yet, there is a third medium at work here as well. The jazz soul of the nation pulses through each poem: snatches of John Coltrane's saxophone, the cool demeanor of Miles Davis's trumpet, and the aching silk of Billie Holiday's voice. These are not mere echos but an underlying rhythm, a satisfying blue note that links what came before and what comes after.

TS S. Fulk, author of Metamodern Morning Angst and Other Horrors.