Stephen Cushman's Riffraff embodies the spirit of its title, a
Middle English word for "every particle" or "things of small
value." In this striking collection, scraps of the overlooked, and
distasteful -- a prostitute passed in the street, the speaker's own
forgotten dreams, toothless dogs rolling in deer offal -- become
occasions to meditate on the rich experiences from which we too
often turn away.
The poems reflect on the possibilities of language, the natural
world, politics, history, eros, aging, family, and spiritual
devotion. Without pretension, Cushman values "adepts who can dwell
in the kiosk of a kiss." Skillfully, he transmutes his own
curiosity and surprise into moments of shared instruction. "Keep
low," he whispers. "Stay put. / Learn from the leaves."
Riffraff culls what we have discarded, saves from abandonment
the notions we have taken for granted, and, indeed, venerates every
particle.
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