Ossip, Kathleen
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PREMIUM
July
Figurative language, especially alliteration, repetition, and metaphor, races through these pages like the balls in a pinball machine, gathering energy and grace. For a wide range of readers.
PREMIUM
The Do Over
On the whole, this is a disappointing collection. The poems lack music, and the language often diverges into prose except for the infrequent occasion when Ossip makes the experience being described new: "I sit/ with hands folded, by a pond, a pool, wimpled by unknowing."
PREMIUM
The Cold War
A disturbing, humorous, and sometimes baffling romp through the suburban birthplace of bourgeois discontent that committed readers of poetry will enjoy.
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