Lamb, poetry by Michael Kenyon

Words “don’t hold the world,” writes Michael Kenyon in Lamb, “because we/ absorb the shallow fast first meaning.” In its line-by-line leaping precision, in the carefully detailed manyness of its particulars, in its expansive, intricate, overarching design, Lamb resists, it refutes, that laxity. Kenyon combs through time, history, identity—national, regional and personal—passionately seeking “something lost.” Lamb is a long poem of potent lyricism. It enacts what Galway Kinnell says of poetry (in a passage Kenyon integrates) that it “sings past even the sadness that begins it.” Singing through, in words that carry and hold, Michael Kenyon shapes a resonant world that is representative and yet very much his own.

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