In the Knees of the Gods

Trish Reeves

BkMk press (the name, if you ever wondered, is short for "bookmark") have been wandering through the American literary landscape for a very long time now ("very long time," of course, being a relative term in the small press world) publishing unheralded books that never fail to be small pleasures when I stumble upon one at a library book sale (one does not find worthwhile poetry in used bookstores in the main, or so fifteen years of haunting them told me). The most recent BkMk book to find its way to my desk is Trish Reeves' In the Knees of the Gods. And "small pleasure" defines it almost perfectly.

In the Knees of the Gods seems to have multiple personality disorder. Blurbing on the back, David Ray says "...this poet seems to alternate between letting it all out and not spelling it out." Indeed. One wonders, amused, why such a levelheaded critique would be considered a blurb. I'd fire my publisher, or force them to fire the person who let it through. But then, I'm not on BkMk. David Ray, however, is entirely correct, and it shouldn't surprise anyone that the book's strongest points are when Reeves doesn't spell anything out, letting the simplicity of the pieces be their own power, while the book's weakest passages (which are, thankfully, concentrated in one section) are when she spends far too much time spelling out, overwhelming the power of the words themselves with artificially imposed meaning and message. Poetry is like beef; the closer you get to organic, the better it's going to be. Reeves spends most of her time allowing the words to speak for themselves, and writing very good poetry because of it. When she does the poetry-as-therapy thing, though, the book falls apart. That, however, is only temporary. It gets back on track and stays there.

Recommended. Just skip over section II until you've digested the rest.