Thistle

"These thirty—seven poems are eccentric in the true meaning of the word—off—center. Their titles, bearing the names of weeds, flowers, herbs, trees, are merely points of departure. How hard can it be, the poet asks, to lie down in the green / mussed bed of the senses. . . . In clover. Whether it's clover or rue, aspen or moss, the reader is invited into that rumpled but rich bed."—Maxine Kumin