Belle Laide
"A whirling, Dionysian poet. . . . Dwyer negotiates brazenly with huge tracts of the human condition. Her leaping imagination will make you laugh out loud. The poems in Belle Laide are a rodeo; hang on to your saddle, cowboy."—Tony Hoagland
A man with a shovel in his hand / is a sexy thing.
I dare myself to bury my dead, / to incline towards Cupid''s clouds.
I dare myself to love a man all-out. / I...
"A whirling, Dionysian poet. . . . Dwyer negotiates brazenly with huge tracts of the human condition. Her leaping imagination will make you laugh out loud. The poems in Belle Laide are a rodeo; hang on to your saddle, cowboy."—Tony Hoagland
A man with a shovel in his hand / is a sexy thing.
I dare myself to bury my dead, / to incline towards Cupid''s clouds.
I dare myself to love a man all-out. / I...
