1 thought on “Clay

  1. From the opening poem, “Clay’s Flies,” Groff draws us into a Whitman-like, although wary, celebration of the flesh, where the poet’s sextant guides us through “the capes and beachheads” of Clay’s body, while his keen ears are always on alert to “the flies. Those jaded undertakers . . . aching to make their mark amid the marks we make.” In poem after poem, the we witness a gorgeous language of extravagance and pathos, without the ornamental or pathetic. By the time we reach Clay [...]

  2. I initally purchased this several semesters ago, for an English course I was taking to fill a gap in my credits. I found it again today, while unpacking once again. For the first time, I sat down and read all 90 pages of this in less then an hour. Then I had to re-read a few places because I'd loved them so much. A beautiful and intimate collection of poems, both tragic and hopeful. It's always hard for me to review poetry, because I don't really know what to say. But I adored the wording in thi [...]

  3. Poets, you're just not fair. Most of the poems in this collection are tightly focused on the speaker's intimate relationships, and the voice in the work drew me in and made me feel as if I knew the people it described. The poetry got under my skin, but in a pleasant fashion. Like I was making a friend. Again. In a handful of words, poetry conveys what it requires me thousands of words to express. When it's as good as this, I always come away awed.

  4. Some really fine poetry in this collection. Groff's play of words is as interesting as his book-long elegy on maternal and erotic (separate, of course) love. I was more fond of sections 1 and 3.

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