Vol. 61 No. 4 1994 - page 710

710
PARTISAN REVIEW
declarative sentence reminds me very much of his prose style.
The
Sacraments of Desire
divides itself into four parts, of which Part One is
clearly the most successful.
Some of the later poems in the book suffer from vagueness and por–
tentousness of diction: "Poetry is the voice of what has no voice/ to tell
the difference between sand and dirt, rocks/ and heat, life and death, love
and the other thing." But does she counter this puffY diction with a sense
of humor? "You ask about the men in my past and it makes me think/ of
Rome falling." I'd like to think this is meant to be a send-up, because
later in the poem these lines occur: "It is true that I have worshipped
trees. I have been praying/ to whatever I can get.... I tell you this/ be–
cause you love me and have such a serious mouth and eyes."
Gregg has an affinity for Greece, where the first section of poems is
set. When she is in harmony with the landscape and the understanding of
life she finds there, she writes poems that refresh and purify the mind and
the senses with the white geometries of a Greek temple. The first poem,
"Glistening," begins with well water - a perfect image for the classical
simplicity of this fine poet at the top of her form:
When I pour it
over my body that is standing in the dust
by the oleander bush, it sparkles easily
in the sunlight with an earnestness like
the spirit close up.
Early on in these poems set in Greece, the capitalized feminine pro–
noun starts to appear. In "On Lesbos Remembering Her Mountain on
Paros," for example, Gregg writes, "I look for Her in a bean field near
this crude house,! watch for Her on sides of hills facing the sea." With
the mention of Lesbos one might suppose Gregg had Sappho in mind -
and that association is relevant. But what emerges is a more inclusive
representation of the Muse and goddess. I like the forthrightness with
which Gregg delineates this goddess: "If Her skirt does not bend the grass,
nor sea air/ mold Her shape while She is happy, there is no grace.! I will
not stop looking for that." In her poem she rejects the conventional rep–
resentation of the goddess, with "A diadem and curly hair with bits of
gold/ and white and red paint," saying:
A rock would do
as well, or some broken weeds. Why not the smell
of earth wanned
all
day by the sun, or the sense
of unseen water underground, or the sky at morning?
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