Angol
Steven Cramer's sixth poetry collection generates scores of illuminating juxtapositions: the privacy of a son's shower-aria and the public lies spewed by the demagogue; what Martin Luther, The Thinker, and Charmin have in common; Renaissance garb-the stomacher, pincnets-wrapped in a headline announcing the moon-landing, to name just a few. Listen begins by facing and facing down the paradox Dickinson called "that White Sustenance/Despair," and ends its journey nearby the "questionable sea" of emotional autonomy. Along the way, there are poems that vivify the magical thinking which shapes, or misshapes, our deepest attachments, as well as the impingements of the so-called world on the so-called self. Experimenting with many verse forms to give shape to the mind's restless shifts and associations-sometimes absurdly funny, bracingly honest, and always sharp in thought and craft-the lyric testimony of Listen reaffirms the indispensable, if fragile, consolations of art.
