The Power to Move

Andrew Vaisius is a Winnipeg day-care director.

The Power to Move contains 37 poems divided into three sections. Their themes range from Renaissance painting and reenactment of Aztec ritual to bull fighting and blind dates — there is a connection. Glickman is eclectic with intention. Such a disparity of themes is held together by the omnipresent first-person voice. She writes safe poetry. She does not take risks or overextend her abilities. She writes casual poetry in a Liberal (as in political party) tone: “wishing for world peace/when I really wanted a bicycle” (p. 44). I cannot imagine anyone getting passionate about this volume, but do not construe that as condemnation. Not everyone lives on the edge.

Glickman is competent and interesting. Her poetry is fluid and accessible. The main problem is that it is not endearing or memorable. Some of her best poems rely as heavily on the last line as a joke relies on the punch line. Yet she is capable of eye-stopping imagery — as when she describes bees as “fat pacifists in rugby sweaters” (p. 56) — and she can be wisely reflective: “I am tired of touring through love, that hot city;/ its vendors and touts, its bazaars full of sadly-used goods” (p. 21). Unfortunately, at times the poems float away as puffs. “What Snow is, When You’re in Mexico” is merely a descriptive catalogue, which would work better as an interlude in a prose piece. It does not move with conviction, but in a painterly fashion. It isthe antithesis of another descriptive poem which fairly bubbles in evocative imagery and speculative sexuality. “The Glassblowers, 6 a.m.” has rhythm and sparkle. It distinguishes itself as one of seven or eight truly good poems in the volume.

This book has the potential to appeal to many because it is thematically approachable and very readable. But I wonder how many people who eagerly identify with the following confusion of wants actually read poetry: