I believe that the largest source of bad reviews is not poor quality work, but misunderstanding on the part of readers of what they are purchasing. I try not to fall prey to this, which is fortunate for this poet, because, despite the title and the focus of the front pages of the book, I cannot find a Camaro, red or otherwise, and except for one work which references loss of life, any influence of a tornado on humanity.

So, do yourself a favour and follow my lead; open the book, turn to the first poem, and start reading with an open mind.

The Poems

This poetry varies greatly in the accessibility of the ideas. The most poetic of the works involve strong imagery, scattered through the pages like the detritus after a tornado. At the opposite end of the spectrum, the hardest to understand require more trouble to work out than the end results are worth.

These poems have a variety of structures. Some are traditional modern poetry (an oxymoron, no doubt) with a corresponding lack of punctuation, capitals and any apparent reason for the organization of the words.

Others portray a single scene or piece of action using pertinent and evocative images. “Heap,” for example, is a coherent statement, a character study in flashes of impression.

Yet others involve two conflicting images or ideas, each clearly limned, but in a juxtaposition of some sort with each other. Sometimes they are expressed in alternate lines, sometimes with a dogleg jump into a completely different topic part way through the work. These, because of their intent to communicate, are often the most accessible. However, it’s rather an all-or-nothing technique, because if you can’t catch the connection between the two subjects, (as I found in “The Boy,” a three-part poem with each section completely unconnected to the others) you’re out of luck.

And farther out in the never-never land of untrammeled creativity are charts, boxed sidebars, and inserts. Beyond me, I’m afraid.

However, in one poem I got my wish. I completely understood what the poet was describing in “ICU 101: How to Intubate the Trachea.” Given the choice, I think I go for the more obscure styles.

The volume ends with my favourite poem, “Blackberry Winter,” the most traditional in format, a standard series of linked images, clearly outlining a simple theme.

Taking the book as a whole, there are several themes scattered through the detritus that arise in odd or appropriate moments. The most poignant is that of an injured dog, denned up in a hole and suffering in lonely silence. Powerful stuff.

The scanty notes at the end tell us the obvious practicalities of a few of the poems, but they give us very little of what we need to know to understand what the poems are telling us.

The Bottom Line

This volume is an interesting juxtaposition of styles and themes with flashes of strong traditional poetic technique. But, alas, no tornados or Camaros.

Four stars.