 |
"Constance Merritt has the unmistakable great range of a poet for whom the lyric is not a way of presenting the self but a way of entering the world. When we read her poems, we can hear the realms of interiority; the paradoxes of sight and sightlessness; a pained but clear knowledge (in both body and mind) of human failure and accomplishment, cruelty and love; a love of play and wit; the feminine; and a pondering of last things." -Reginald Gibbons, author of Creatures of a Day |
