Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Great new review of Coring the Moon


"Each of Frost’s poems set in this selected archipelago of passion and elegance sings out a cataract of lightness and ecstatic breath which spreads over and beyond the earth’s pedestrian topology—a fitting tribute for a consummate poet."

Dennis Daly of the Boston Area Small Press and Poetry Scene

Click here to see the entire review!

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

  Praise for Night Flight:

Here is an imagination so lively and detailed, so sensory and aural, it is no longer imagination. Kenneth Frost’s poems in Night Flight are reminiscent of Lautreamont in the way they embrace and invite the presence of creatures from the other side….delightfully. At the same time, his control is consummate in every line, his craft is unnoticeably exact, there’s not a word out of place. Refreshing. --Mani Rao

Praise for Time On Its Own:

Kenneth Frost writes poems with imagery that touches our nerve ends directly and demands our immediate response. His surreal juxtapositions are delivered for the most part with a slow jazzy beat. There is a poem for everyone here. Frost’s subjects range from landscapes to metaphysics, from spiders to theology…. In “The Figure-Skater,” Frost magically turns a female skater into a creator of universes and an archive of memories…. In “Buddy Rich On The Drums”… Frost pieces together one inspired image after another…. The poem ends in a holy froth mimicking that fiery drummer perfectly.  Well done. And efficacious as hell.  --Dennis Daly

Buy it here!

Monday, August 5, 2013

Review of Dream-Shuttle

Poem after poem in this book "connects." Each lucidly manifests what E.M. Forster called for in novels: 'Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its highest.' the poetry and the passion, the world around us in our shared vigor and transience, is embodied in Carolyn Gelland's poems. One, of many, is her "Dream-Shuttle":

I stare through the looking glass
of my apartment window
after dusk.
The door's the key,
opening up
'Now I've got it' till
mirrors drain
the room into a coma
where you hear
the living room talk about you dead,
the way the dead wish we
were different.

- Henry Braun