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There are highly-charged words that look as scary as they sound in our metaphoric abecedarium – there‟s the mocking niftiness of “old”; there‟s the tingly nasal “winter”; there‟s the seething smirk of “death”; or the hissing final stress in “corpse.” Now toss them with uncommon deftness in random combination to a poem about worry, or fear, or paranoia and you get the compellingly rich, resigned voice of Ron Blanton. The poems in this selection all convey acceptance and surrender, an attitude that remains rather more elusive in written words than in their spoken counterpart. Yet, Blanton not only fleshes surrender out in the fullness of his limitless range but also does it with snappy simplicity – an epic rampages through every line. Don‟t look now with eyes that betray your paranoia. He will commodify your fears then peddle them with the ease and charm of the winsome Electrolux man of yore.


Ron Blanton‟s poetry is clear, direct and inviting. I identified so strongly with Becoming a Corpse, a series of chills flowed through my body, and the chills return with each reading. In Breathe, once again I am immediately drawn in. I enjoy a good autumn poem, and this is a fine one, abounding in imagery pleasing to all the senses. Autumn is my favorite time to breathe as well. And as an ex-smoker, the power in Last Smoke took my breath away. Reading Ron‟s poetry, I feel in the presence of a kindred spirit.


SPIRACLE JOURNAL Volume I Issue No. 1  

Re. In. Vent.

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