"Paul Hostovsky always finds a way to make
me happy. I
hope in the next life I come back as him."
—Scott
Owens |
| Dear
Truth is close kin to Paul Hostovsky's
other work, but much here is concerned with
physical pain, its etiology and its indescribability,
its persistence in the psychic world too.
But humor is always standing at the abyss
with this poet--and enormous good will.
Like Kunitz, he is a master at revealing
tenderness; like Gerald Stern, his onrushing
lines trap the reader in a tidal pull, and
we have no choice but to read on.
Dear Truth/ I do not love you./ I am running
away/ with my beloved/ illusions...
We run away with him to his difficult alluring
country of paradox, pain and irony--and
the unique existential mischief that relieves
it all. |
| —Suzanne
Berger |
|