Dannye Romine Powell

Poetry is not like prose. But then there are prose poems, like the kind Raymond Carver wrote, little bits and snippets of random musings and memories from his alcohol-soaked life. I bought a book of his poems, ALL OF US, about twenty years ago and read it straight through. I remember one particular poem, I think it was called "The Party," which described a night he spent alone in a room eating hot, buttered, salty popcorn he'd made, listening to a jazz radio station on low, while waves crashed on the shore below his house. I could almost taste that popcorn and hear that soft music. And yeah, I've read his stories too, and am a Carver fan, so when I ran across this book, IN THE SUNROOM WITH RAYMOND CARVER, new poems from Dannye Romine Powell, I was intrigued.

Turns out these poems and Carter's work do have something in common - alcoholism, along with the heartbreak, worries and sadness that always accompany it. In he title poem, she cites the poem Carver wrote to his daughter, warning her -

"you can't drink. You said,
It will kill you. Like it did
your mother and me."

The poet, called 'Longing' in these poems, wonders how Carver found any happiness, having a child like this. Because she has a son that drinks, who has been her own sorrow for all his adult life. He is here, in many poems - "The Bag" "The Son," "The Minister's Advice to Longing," "After He Goes into Rehab" and others.

The poems also tell of a selfish, alcoholic father, a mother's death, of a failed marriage and more. A few of them touched me deeply, brought back memories. In "Longing Drives by the Old Apartment," she tells of -

"... two young sons, back when
she kneeled by the tub
to bathe the boys ...
She can see them still: their fat, rosy cheeks
and slicked back hair ..."

Sweet images of our own two little boys, freshly bathed, hair combed, in homemade flannel PJs, more than fifty years ago.

"And sometimes as they slept,
She would tiptoe in and pry open
their small hands
to inhale the copper mystery
of each palm ..."

Ah! And I remembered leaning into a crib to relish the special scent of a small sweaty neck, of all three of our babies all those years ago. Sometimes a poem can evoke many kinds of feelings and memories, often very different from what the poet may have intended.

Or there is "Comfort," with its image of the warmth of that other side of the bed, recently vacated, and its last, deeply erotic line - "or the way / I sometimes / take you in, deep / into the night of me."

Yes, I liked Raymond Carver's poetry, and his influence can be felt throughout Dannye Powell's poems in this collection. Mature reflections on a life's ups and downs, they will tug at your heartstrings. Very highly recommended.

- Tim Bazzett, author of the memoir, BOOKLOVER… (plus d'informations)