The Daily Glance
Lance Phillips' These Indicium Tales are poems of the body and the space between words as much as the words themselves. By that, I mean that the poems leave a lot of white space in and around them, so much so that the poems are filled with space. They are also poems of the body, and many of them border on the erotic, but they only give us fragments so that we have to imagine the rest through our experiences.
Taut nipple from grief
Fragile, the raspberries are a tiny cave, each continuous desire.
There is half the distance between beaks, again half, wet, pornographic
The forest decides around them
A piece like this one seems erotic, but I'm not sure how except for a few words, and I'm left filling in the spaces between the stanzas for the image. Luckily, I like poems with words floating in open space, so I enjoyed reading through this book, though I must admit that I'd like to hear Phillips reading these pieces to hear how meditative the spaces between the lines are for him.
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