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2 landlords walk into a bar, never to resurface. All the patrons twitterpated, won’t let them leave.
Leaves of grass if grass was a lease.
A tenant-poet in search of a place to dwell, renovates Shakespeare, Shaggy, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, etc.
Let’s love the landlord. Because all relations are commodity relations. Because love is money. Because parody almost rhymes with possibility.
Miller, in this striking and cogent collection, takes an elegant sidelong lorgnette to the idea of the landlord, and the manifold meanings thereof. These constellating poems—sui generis arrangements drawing from the quotidian to the legal and devotional—resolve into a refracting syzygy ranging sonnet thru abecedarian. With deft, gentle tenancy over the borrowed lines of others, Millers sows these terra mutantur manus (—poetic lands of changing hands) with abiding declarations, vivid nourishments, wry voltas and steady, astute provision. Let the shoots of perception that are these stellar poems scatter your garden and trellis your lens..
colleen coco collins
