Imagine Being More Afrai

The poems allow you to journey into a soul rarely touched by contemporary poetry. Regardless of sexual preference, color, or religion-Ms. Sneed writes with truth. A truth that is uncomfortable and relentless, but needed.

This is exactly what Nikki Giovanni is shooting for, and doesn't reach. Pamela takes her rage, fear, and helplessness and transfers it directly to the reader, and does so with a sense of beauty and language that rivals the best of the traditional poets. She brings the world of radical feminism to everyone's doorstep, while never losing the sense of her own irony and philosophical limitations. I hold this book in the same reverance that I hold my copy of Dickenson.

Pamela Sneed is a true artist. Her poetry portrays the struggles of Black lesbians, lonliness,what it is to suffer abuse, and what it is to find oneself, love oneself, and continue on. I really enjoyed this collection of poems. I would also like to give it the highest recommendation possible. Her work touches the depth of a specific culture as well as the human condition. Not only that, it enthralls readers and brings experience to life. Again, I give this work the highest praise possible, and I encourage all people to read it, know it, analyze it, and abosorb it. Ms. Sneed's poetry is vibrant, no nonsense, in your face, and true to life. Her words open up an adventurous, as well as educating avenue that exposes readers to a feared culture that lives right inside the walls of mainstream society.

As an avid poetry lover, I didn't know what to expect. By accident, I came across this book. Pamela Sneed's poetry is raw and imaginable. I laughed, cried, meditated and felt empathy. There's certainly no more slavery for Pam. With the spirit of Harriet, among others, this sister is truly free...free to be herself. More power to you!!!

Perhaps someone who demands the rigid classicism of a T.S. Eliot would be put off, but I liked it fine. To me, her poetry felt like a mix between Allen Ginsburg's frenetic images/speech rhythms and Pat Parker's stripped, precise rhetoric. " . . . a symphony of sound/strummed on broken guitar strings,/an echo of words overturned/sweetness swallowed, spit/and whispered in my ear . . . I repeat/ each song you quote like scriptures/ poetry is the only gospel/ I know." Sometimes I could almost imagine her on stage, her glorious diatribe still hanging in the air, the audience absolutely quiet. Or in her monologue to God: "This is the end/ of an extremely unfulfilling relationship." Who would've guessed? Humor in poetry after Frank O' Connor. All in all, it wasn't Sir Edmund Spenser, but it was an experience. I recommend it.