Don Share's latest collection, Squandermania, is a book of poems that are slightly death-haunted and studded with references to marriage and fatherhood, geology and biology. It also revives a luminous, if complex, domesticity - not something most men take as their subject.
"We fought America in ourselves," Don Share writes, and Union suggests - in exquisitely lyrical gestures - the breadth and depth of our public and private, civil and uncivil wars. These quietly powerful poems range from the gritty intrigues of New York City to subsistence farms, where "the dogs are in charge." Along the way, they witness the vestiges of place embodied in the "lazy-built, leaky drawl" of regional accents and the eloquence of artifacts that comprised an epoch - the Triptiks, Reader's Digest Condensed, Castro Convertibles, and Olds 88 of post World War II American culture. But Union also sings the eternal concerns of love and time, death and longing. And "sing" is the right verb for Share's passionate, richly realized work. Few poets manage such dexterous and fresh music. Few books are as lovely or profound. - Alice Fulton
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