New Math
1987

“If we could compute the numerical value/ of a turning wrist, a sense of shock/ toast on a plate. . . .” Such is the obvious need for a “new math.” Beautiful if somewhat disturbing, these poems explore that need; and though certain sharp and original images will likely stay with you long after you have put down this book, the poems as a whole don’t leave such a strong impression. The lines are hypnotic because the leaps are bold, but they are often confusing as well: “Everything in the world/ means the world to me/ and I find this to be / mathematically correct.” There is a lot of this word play in the poems, wars of logic and expectation. Nothing is ordinary, reason enough to recommend the book, but it is not for the casual reader of poetry. Louis McKee, Poetry Consultant, Painted Bride Arts Ctr., Philadelphia

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