publication date: 2005/10/01
trim: 9 x 6
price (cloth): $20.95
price (paper): $13.95
ISBN 13 (cloth): 978-1-932511-30-7
ISBN 13 (paper): 978-1-932511-23-9
In "Dear Snow," Sleeping Beauty ("Sleep") advises Snow White, "Bewilder awhile wild eye and well, / splinter the spindle into spine, ink and apple." A sinister litany, the Audenesque "Weight-Bearing Song" accuses: "You are the goose girl who shoulders the goose / You are the hangman who slipknots the noose." Wing is a denizen of the worlds inhabited by her poems; the verse is effortless. Interspersed throughout the collection are odd notes acting as rest stops, the Tom and Jerry series, and the comic classified ads. In "139 Words about Me," one brisk stanza reads: "Dear Iniquitous Villain: / Kick my tires. / ISO a synonym for nefarious. / No usuals."
Aside from her gift for marrying sounds, Wing's great talent is for surprise; something waits toward the end of every poem. "Enter Invisible," the title poem and Shakespearean stage direction, is as much a command to the reader as the writer. This book is a classical theater replete with lights, curtains, and masks. The personal vignette is almost an absent form, and from this we better understand the writer herself: the collection runs from the head and declines entanglements of the heart. Do not expect sympathy here. Catherine Wing shows us the liberation of a silenced narrative. Her voice is as cool as moss.
Dear Snow, The grandfather clock is set at bewilder which means this tower spiraling some un-time reads: if, when, awhile. If the night hadn't come in like ink against the castle's shore and briar isle, then roses next, house and ingle. But how are you and your worry wild? And how's all that brood, short and short in sin, excepting the basic grump, laze, hap. Wilt come for Christmas, snowflake and spin? Or are you still locked up a-wheel of wiles? Damned stepmother washed up, has been. These days I have something of the guile roosting under eave and shingle. Dad, the king, looks at me and cries, but I'm not hurt or bad beyond a splinter. Harvest is in, the realm expanding and I so-so in school. But he's gone mad to spindle. (My advice is this: Bewilder awhile wild eye and well, splinter the spindle into spine, and ink and apple.) Sigh, Sleep
Second edition of the Woodford Reserve Series in Kentucky Literature
Read Wing's poetry on the Poet's & Writers Website.
With Stevensian proliferations and Dickinsonian refractive speed, Enter Invisible puzzles without ruse, conveying a lightning-quick mind, always electric, fiercely inventive. The descriptive angularities, formal variance, and musical resources are sassy, tricky, and intriguing, full of razzle-dazzle and enormously beguiling, even as a tragic sense simmers within their marvelous contraptions. Catherine Wing is confident enough to entertain us and skilled enough to leave us haunted by what makes us laugh.