May 7, 2009

 Navigation

   Home Page

 News & Features

   News

 Columns & Opinions

   Publisher's Note

   Boomers

   Pinings

   Longshots

   Techie

 Pop Culture

   Film

   TV

   Books
   Video Games
   CD Reviews

 Living

   Food

   Wine

   Beer

 Music

   Articles

   Music Roundup

   Live Music/DJs

   MP3 & Podcasts

   Bandmates

 Arts

   Theater

   Art

 Find A Hippo

   Manchester

   Nashua

 Classifieds

   View Classified Ads

   Place a Classified Ad

 Advertising

   Advertising

   Rates

 Contact Us

   Hippo Staff

   How to Reach The Hippo

 Past Issues

   Browse by Cover


Micrographia, by Emily Wilson (University of Iowa Press, 2009, 48 pages)
By Dan Szczesny letters@hippopress.com

On the surface, Emily Wilson is a nature poet, swimming as she does in the complexity of and beauty of the simple phenomenon of mountains, trees or water. But Wilson is not content with simple nature — her poetry is deeply complex, her syntax relentlessly intricate, and her diction is virtually a character itself in her poetry. The nature in Micrographia is huge and intimate at the same time — made so by Wilson’s unapologetic style. In “The Spruce” Wilson offers a modern ode: “It dazzles rather / withers the grass with dinted shade / densities figuring / what to see, blue, blue segments / the spruce.” This is poetry of another age, full of itself, unabashedly flowery and rightfully wonderful. Wilson does not wink at the camera and finds no irony in phrases like “basal aigrettes like chamois insoles,” “beautiful forestations of made language” or “garnets shrill in the schist.” It’s nearly impossible to not give yourself over to Wilson’s insane, intense language, and why wouldn’t you want to? B+