海角大神

In "Coin of the Realm," a collection of critical essays that he published in 2004, Carl Phillips outlined a literary sensibility that鈥檚 helpful to keep in mind while reading his poems. 鈥淔or me, to write is a form of prayer, however secular the subject of the writing at hand,鈥� he told readers. 鈥淲riting is as private as prayer 鈥� it contains, as prayer does, an implicit faith in there being somewhere a listener and at the same time a sober realization that prayer is finally one-directional.鈥�

That vision rests at the heart of聽Wild is the Wind, Phillips鈥檚 new collection of poems. His verse often seems like an interior monologue on which the reader is casually eavesdropping.

The title of "Wild is the Wind"聽refers to an old jazz standard, but it also neatly chimes with Phillips鈥檚 interest in nature. The double meaning of the title underscores his equal fascination with both culture and the outdoors. His poems casually quote Lucretius or Marcus Aurelius while touching on wind and water, woods and bonfires, coyotes and storms. In the title poem, Phillips recalls a time when he lived 鈥渁t the forest鈥檚 edge 鈥� metaphorically, so it can sometimes seem now, though the forest was real, as my life beside it was....鈥�

One isn鈥檛 quite sure what engages Phillips more 鈥� the real woods, or the聽idea聽of them. The question arises again in 鈥淢usculature,鈥� which begins with a discussion of his dog then digresses into a discussion of language and mortality, the canine itself never quite coming into focus.

That鈥檚 an abiding challenge with Phillips鈥檚 poems, which can become so immersed in intellectual disquisition that they sound aridly abstract.

At his best, though, Phillips has a keen eye for what鈥檚 transitory 鈥� for those things made all the more beautiful because they can鈥檛 last. In 鈥淪wimming,鈥� he artfully compares wind-swept trees to a kind of star that a helmsman might steer by, then wistfully asks, 鈥淒o people, anymore, even say helmsman?鈥�

What results is a poignant moment 鈥� the poet using language to preserve a memory, then wondering if language itself, a cherished instrument for passing what鈥檚 precious from one age to another, is also vulnerable to time.

It鈥檚 a problem perhaps only a poet would be anguished by, though another poem, 鈥淏rothers in Arms,鈥� shows Phillips coming to terms with the occupational hazards of his vocation: 鈥淚鈥檝e always thought gratitude鈥檚 the one correct response to having been made, however painfully, to see this life more up close.鈥澛犅犅犅犅犅犅犅犅犅�

Danny Heitman, a columnist for The Advocate newspaper in Louisiana, is the author of 'A Summer of Birds: John James Audubon at Oakley House.'