New Titles in Poetry

Foiled Again: Poems
Author: J. Allyn Rosser
Publisher: Ivan R. Dee
Cloth $22.50 (96 p)
ISBN: 1566637635
ISBN-13: 9781566637633
B&T       MAJORS       YBP

Foiled Again is J. Allyn Rosser's third collection of poetry. As do the first two, it shows work interested in formal elements of construction, if only to play with them. Speaking of play, these poems are alive from the get-go with word play for which Rosser should be famous. Even the title is a nod to the quotation in the frontpiece, which upends the phrase as used by comic-book villains of yesteryear, and yet, the "again" signifies, rounding the reference.

Although these poems don't allow you to predict where you'll end up, they are grounded in familiar experiences. Who hasn't taken a ride with kids, as does the driver in "Mother Lets Off a Little Steam" when the family car is a torture chamber on wheels? Yet Rosser's alertness to life not only pays attention to what is ("…rhinestone ruby shades bouncing painful darts of light into my eye…") but understands the essential difference in the character of each child that puts paid to the concept of tabula rasa. That's plenty, and for some poets, a stopping point, but instead, Rosser extends the characterization to take on mock-platonic form, as Mom drives on with Truth and the Muse in the backseat. The mix of irony and tenderness is delicious. Her Dean Martin in "Perfect Pitch" is as perfect a capture in print of a personality as I've ever read. Again, she doesn't stop there, but powers through the individual characterization as zeitgeist to the age itself, then to the culture that produced it, and from there to the human condition. Her looks backward are never nostalgic, but rather ruminative in way that leads to wisdom, and these are poems not only smart, in terms of their construction and invention, but also wise.

Her tone is up-close and personal, but the personal here is only a starting point from which Rosser reaches out to make connections to the larger world. Convinced by the intensity of both her observation and her expression, we are included by way of the poem into her experiences, not as spectators, but to be able to participate in her conclusions. Rosser strains life's fruit through the fine mesh of her intellect without losing any savor-like juicing, if you will. What remains is a distillation to the strongest tonic we can absorb, and, depending on what got squeezed, one that some might want to add something to, like sugar, to escape the raw or even bitter flavor-but not she. Is this a hard-headed or a loving look at our existence? Yes and yes.