THISTLE
ISBN: 978-0-9762114-1-9
Pub Date: Spring 2006
Pages: 84
By Melissa Kwasny
These thirty-seven poems are eccentric in the true meaning of the word—off-center. Their titles, bearing the names of weeds, flowers, herbs, trees, are merely points of departure. “How hard can it be,” the poet asks, “to lie down in the green / mussed bed of the senses . . . In clover.” Whether it's clover or rue, aspen or moss, the reader is invited into that rumpled but rich bed.
—Maxine Kumin
As nearly all our great poets tell us, it is by attending scrupulously to other that we best understand ourselves. So it is that in Melissa Kwasny's tender, brilliantly described encounters with the vegetable world we see, in the midst of the most respectful observations of each beloved species—whether it be tree lichen, kinnikinnick, wild rose, human being, or rue—great depths of world and self knowledge. One benefit of such reverent scrutiny is the courage finally to ask, as Emily Dickinson herself might have asked, one of the biggest “what if's” of all. For if, as in Kwasny's “Shrinking Violets,” “the largest animal in the world is God”, and, later, “There are no words/ for my transgressions, only the space / between leaving one god for another, / a male for a female”, then, naturally, she may ask, “What if the sibyl called the voice of God her own?”
— Patricia Goedicke


