Richard,
I'd like to expound on my positive reaction to Paul Breslin's new offering, Siren, but I haven't got time this morning Instead, I will join you here in your thread where such brevity is not only acceptable, but respectable.
Despite evident weaknesses (a certain listy-ness of vague contrivance and especially It's my mother/ folding her arms and saying take your anger/ someplace else, it doesn't belong to me;) Breslin brings this to a strong finish.
So little to separate us
from the one the siren is for,
whose house flies into the air as cinders,
who lies on his bed turning purple and clutching his heart.
So little indeed.
I'm interested to read the thoughts of Martin Greene, who particularly admires Paul Breslin and has a friendly relationship with him, and occasionally posts Rhododendron on PoemsFray. I hope Martin is well enough post-surgery to share his reaction.
