In Sydney Lea's poems, purest joy and woe flash amid the mundane, and beauty knows the full range of nature - from the plumed tension of a newborn child twisting away from the ready breast to bright birds lying dead on the winter lawn.
From the mud of our formation (""Choir"") to the dust of our dying (""After Kandinsky""), Tod Marshall's poems lyrically obsess over how the broken and violated can envision and speak a heaven of which we know.
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