Sometime in the spring of 2007, Ray Amorosi, from whom I had not heard in twenty-five years, called and read one of my own poems into my answering machine. I called him back. He called me back. This went on for a couple of weeks until, once when he called he announced that he'd written a poem, and then he read it. It began, God, it's Ray. Thank you for the storm that passed north of us and for the thought of lime. Never have our tomatoes been so sweet. The poem just melted me and I said so. He mailed me a handwritten copy (his hands have suffered some damage and it's hard for him to type)....
Sometime in the spring of 2007, Ray Amorosi, from whom I had not heard in twenty-five years, called and read one of my own poems into my answering ...
Descriptions of Ray Amorosi's poetry are likely to sound farfetched, snarled in impossible paradox: it is at once highly compressed, light hearted, intense, experimental, traditional, familiar, sweet, hard-bitten, hilarious, shocking, erudite, curious, off-hand, and reverent. It is unlike any poetry being written in America today and, as such, offers the reader unique refreshment and perspective.
Descriptions of Ray Amorosi's poetry are likely to sound farfetched, snarled in impossible paradox: it is at once highly compressed, light hearted,...
Descriptions of Ray Amorosi's poetry are likely to sound farfetched, snarled in impossible paradox: it is at once highly compressed, light hearted, intense, experimental, traditional, familiar, sweet, hard-bitten, hilarious, shocking, erudite, curious, off-hand, and reverent. It is unlike any poetry being written in America today and, as such, offers the reader unique refreshment and perspective.
Descriptions of Ray Amorosi's poetry are likely to sound farfetched, snarled in impossible paradox: it is at once highly compressed, light hearted,...
