The Drowned Girl

The Drowned Girl

Eve Alexandra


infrequent in any age is figure which includes a ardour for event, a dedication to fact, a capability to plumb the irrational, and a fluency in poetic language and track that could paintings via these types of tangled thickets, yet Eve Alexandra does simply that? this is often real poetry; it instantly takes its position as a player within the tremendous ancient voice which composes poetry, a voice which includes ten-thousand tones, yet which takes not anything till itself which doesn't resonate, as do the poems of The Drowned woman, with authenticity and fervor. C. ok. Williams, pass judgement on. one of many issues i locate compelling approximately Eve Alexandra's poems is that, whereas the narrator is seductive and gorgeous, she isn't really enjoyable. She doesn't provide convenience. She isn't type of solicitous. Like Ariel, who plays the tempest for Prospero, Alexandra, too, is a tempest-res: those are the storms and drownings of her personal invention.

Like Ariel's bedeviling and lovely tunes composed to tease the sad, those are poems of the taunt and tease, the razor within the apple. Lynn Emmanuel. anything brilliant and reflective, whatever lucid and exacting flickers on the middle of this fleshy, unique debut. Is it a needle? Is it a scalpel? Is it a scythe? Is it the switchblade a lady may well hold in her handbag? Eve Alexandra wields a young, sharp honesty. The traces lower and cube, arc and glimmer within the gentle of her lyricism and intelligence. those poems will open you, make you bleed, make you ask yourself.

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