Sweet Herbaceous Miracle is absolutely gorgeous writing. Attentive language, rich, provocative scenes with painterly light shining through . . . Berwyn Moore’s book takes the breath away.
—Naomi Shihab Nye
Elizabethan elegance, light, and fire-crack pervade this terrific collection. In sizzling couplets and delicious sonnets, Berwyn Moore is ever the methodist—and ever more the skeptical interrogator (of the body, of love, of angels not us). “Now you have scratched into my dreams,” says the speaker to the rat, and now these poems have scratched into mine. Who could want more from a book of poems?
—Alan Michael Parker
A subtle alchemy infuses Berwyn Moore’s Sweet Herbaceous Miracle. Under the spell of her lexicon, a vagrant woman transforms into an angel, wasp bites become stigmata, and a cardboard box turns into a mysterious, sacred dwelling. Her Blakean visions are bound to beguile and leave the reader craving for more.
The ghost of Dickinson haunts these delicate meditations on love and death and transience. They arrive like good news, like spring flowers from the garden. And I can hardly think of a poet, especially in our plain-speak, laconic times, who better reminds us of the sheer lusciousness, the rich organic resources, of the English language. Reading these poems by Berwyn Moore is to fall in love all over again with your own tongue.
Sweet Herbaceous Miracle, Berwyn Moore’s third collection of poetry, is a lush, compelling book that celebrates the profligate complexities of the human condition and the natural world—through subjects as wide-ranging as rats, artichokes, cancer, and marital discord. Moore’s sumptuous linguistic gifts, observant eye and deftly wielded ironic sensibility are at work in full force here, teasing out the confounding but also rewarding. Hers is a voice that surprises and gratifies at every turn.
—Beth A Gylys
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