An Altar of Tides
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Helen Vendler, about Amy Clampitt's The Kingfisher, praised a book in which "a Keatsian luxury of detail is combined with worldly insight." The same may be said of An Altar of Tides by Peter Ludwin. Its images convey a gritty sublimity and juxtaposition: a mushroom growing in a shower, a pioneer's clothing iron swinging between her legs as she crosses the country, wounds blossoming or a scorched tree enduring wildfire.Ludwin navigates "where the world unveils a minor key" in redemptive bluesy lines bountiful with "the insatiable heart" of music and meaning. When the poet shares his reverence f...
Helen Vendler, about Amy Clampitt's The Kingfisher, praised a book in which "a Keatsian luxury of detail is combined with worldly insight." The same may be said of An Altar of Tides by Peter Ludwin. Its images convey a gritty sublimity and juxtaposition: a mushroom growing in a shower, a pioneer's clothing iron swinging between her legs as she crosses the country, wounds blossoming or a scorched tree enduring wildfire.Ludwin navigates "where the world unveils a minor key" in redemptive bluesy lines bountiful with "the insatiable heart" of music and meaning. When the poet shares his reverence for the natural world and his guilt at its diminishing, the results are meaningfully conflicted. In the hands of a seasoned poet like Ludwin, even poems about his Austrian father engender the past as another endangered territory where regret is the permanent weather. Indeed, these poems come from a keen mind and deep heart. -Allen Braden, author of A Wreath of Down and Drops of Blood Always conscious of the old growth, the roots, Peter Ludwin's resonating images and appeal to the senses lead us on a journey into wilderness where we discover a phrase of light corralled among elk bones after the lion kill, among driftwood and agates salvaged from the river. We meet rugged people of mud-caked boots and guitar picks who belong to the land and its primal music, its chords strummed like the quiver of leaves tapping rhythm to a wolf concerto. Each section is a song of drift that takes us on uncharted trails and waterways with characters as diverse as the Lone Ranger, Buddy Holly, Beowulf interspersed with the ghost of Pearl Girl, the spirit power of a Cheyenne woman, and the unforgettable Lisa with her Skilsaw. Among this gathering we also discover the "Father" poems, which remind us why poetry matters. Experiencing Ludwin's poems is like wind lush with salt, with stories pried from kelp, stories that reflect the self and open us like shells. This is truly a book to savor. -Kate Kingston, author of The Future Wears Camouflage Blackberry Brambles." It sets the stage for the journey that is this collection: "And these roots, this is to the death." The poem "Corn" ends with this couplet, "...a rain shower spreads/its damp voice. Whispers, What have you done?" These poems are Ludwin's answer, and they arrive with a touch inspired by the beloved Milt from "Swanson's Land of Flowers" who works a shit job and instructs his minion, Do it right. These poems are an earthy mix of "sweat and stink and chipped wood" and love. They are steeped in the natural beauty of the Northwest, they are intricate and intimate. Sections reveal a world of wood, tides, hay, longing and mirage.Near the collection's close, "The Book on My Father" says, "This story, like the loon's, begins and ends in mist." This is the song of a life. Peter Ludwin does it right. -Kevin Miller, author of Vanish
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