Today I want to focus on an excellent poet, G.L. Ford, who could have given the Imagists a run for their money. His chapbook Landscapes of Fire and Music is incredible.
His lines are so multi-layered, and call back to so many ancient atmospheres, like this from part 5 of "Canticle Flesh", it's so much sand of Algeria and Morocco and the terror of Set at the same time:
[...] red blossoms from pastures of sand
I also loved his very Gabriele d'Annunzio feeling, and the little moments that felt as great as Hughes best work--or even Seamus Heaney:
[...]
from the wreckage
of orchids and ice colliding mid-heaven [...]
I can garb myself in broken twigs, honey, blood, dawnspill [...]
vines swathe the traffic sign, glossolalia of green
He's got such a weight behind his words, so much intellect. Simple poems are great, but just like food, richer, more complex poems can be amazing. There are different flavors, categories and types of poems.
Here's a review of more of his work.
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