Earth Bones: Poetry Book Review 

by Tamara Jean Luckinbill

 

 

 

 

 

Earth Bones by Richard Taylor, is a collection of his poems published in 1979. I was first drawn to this pale-yellow, coarsely textured chapbook upon the shelf of a favorite hole-in-the-wall used bookshop because of the lovely monochromatic illustration of animals grazing beneath a bare branched tree that decorates the cover from the front, over the spine and onto the backside. I have a soft-spot in my heart reserved for vintage paperbacks that are absent our contemporary barcodes that often obstruct the visual details of older books. Another aspect of this book in particular is the worn spine and long shape. But, it is, of course, the naturalist’s words printed within the smooth, off-white pages that gave an allure so captivating that I wanted to write about it and share the professional expertise bound here in these pages.

Upon the flap under the front page jacket cover art and calligraphy designed by Leah Palmer Preiss, the Gnomon Press states that these poems, “define the intimate connection the author feels with land, animals, and family.” Hastily, I flipped the illustrated title page, then ahead, past an absent table of contents. The book is arranged in two sections with separate titles that I adore: “The Beasts of the Field” and “Baring the Bones.” Both include quotations by other famous writers, Walt Whitman and Mary Renault. I find Taylor’s selection of these small tidbits appropriate as tribute to other authors that I assume inspire him. These carefully chosen lines, augmented in the craft of calligraphy, do stand out as the main achievement in this publication, met by his own work in basic typeface.

Perhaps he is a modest poet?

Being a morbidly fascinated, wellness centered person and healer, who myself studies cycles between life and death, I am immediately drawn to the stanza’s that border on darker tones. Poems such as, “Hymn for the Small Dead,” and “The Dead Cow in the Creek,” and even, “Cicadas,” hold my attention with rural details of the wild lives of these common creatures. 

 

The best taste of dove is its flight

-excerpt from the poem, “Homespun”

 

Taylor captured the very real rural experience of sad reality for domestic livestock and other creatures who thrive near homesteads. There is an artful delicacy with which this book brings me, as a reader, into his world of caring and acceptance of the inoculate fate of frailty and mortality inherent in being alive.

I found myself sprawled on my bed, in the mid-afternoon sunlight spilling through the large windows of the pine encased bedroom with my one-eyed cat, reading aloud the typed lines on these aesthetically thought-provoking pages as Debussy played on an LP in another room.

My feline didn’t seem to think much of the messages I gleaned from these pages. Perhaps it is because half the experience was the tactile nature of the cover that I have described in great detail from its size, weight and texture. But it is also the boldness of the author to include his work amongst the wisdom of other great literary talents. And, unfortunately, I do feel his own talents pale in comparison to those of Walt and Mary, as well as, his writing talent is somewhat obliterated by the absolute richness of Preiss’ illustrations.

But it is the work of Richard Taylor that drew all these elements into one place so that I could savor his prose in enjoyment of a portfolio of all that lies between the fanciful paper covers of his work.

I would recommend searching for this author, be he successful or fallen to a fate of obscurity, I have yet to research. If not only for the sake of celebrating thoughts captured in another time, in an era of slow-paced life, before we rushed past death and, instead, looked to observe it in poetry.

 

Our needs are few.

Some bedrock, some water.

A view of the moon;

-excerpt from the poem, “Premises”