BY BRITTANY CAVALLARO
The poems in Darcie Dennigan’s Madame X play out their eerie dramas in the liminal space between dream and reality, utopia and dystopia. In “The Youngest Living Thing in L.A.,” which opens this collection, Dennigan’s speaker clutches a silent baby in a silent city: “I said to the baby, We will stand here until there is snow on the mountain. / I may have meant to say fountain. / We peered all day into the strange fountain.” Her poems’ long lines stretch across the page, but it’s only in this first poem and a handful of others that Dennigan allows her line to end in the finality of a period. {MORE}
BY JACQUES RANCOURT
For as long as I’ve studied poetry, the general consensus from teachers and fellow students has been the same: contemporary poetry shouldn’t rhyme. Or if they do, they should use only slant rhymes, sneaky rhymes. And if they must use hard rhymes, then never—never—write rhyming couplets.... Blame Whitman, or the modernists, or whoever you’d like, but after centuries of rhymed poetry, the poetry we read, write, and admire in the twenty-first century by and large does not rhyme, which is one reason why Melissa Range’s debut Horse and Rider is both striking and important. {MORE}
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