We were not asked to blurb Still Some Cake, Jim Cummins’s new collection, published by Carnegie Mellon University Press, which had the good sense to go to Marilyn Krysl, who would actually know what she was blurbing about. It’s not as though Jim doesn’t know us. He does. But he also knows that we seldom make it past the lurid crime aisles to reach the poetry aisles, which means we would never have stumbled on it by ourself, so our blurb would have been meaningless. He did, however, send us a copy with a cool inscription, stabbing us with guilt over his knowing that we needed to have the book shoved under our nose. We’re halfway through. What do we think? We think we should probably start attending the Walnut Street Poetry Society sessions so that we can do justice to a work that we, poetically impaired though we know ourself to be, find absorbing and smart and, from time to time, funny.
Jim’s day job is curator of the Elliston Poetry Collection which is housed in the ghastly but necessary and useful Langsam Library at the University of Cincinnati.