Lightning at Dinner: Poems

Jim Moore has a knack for distilling experiences to their essence; in a few words, he can go to the heart of complex emotions and situations. His poems have great spiritual resonance--and great humor. You will love not only the poems but the poet by the time you finish reading the book.

Jim Moore continues his series of poetry collections from his home base in Minnesota and while he is widely read, he is often dismissed by some critics as too plain, too simple, too 'regional' to make a difference. The lovers of poetry are encouraged to read this latest collection LIGHTNING AT DINNER and decide for themselves. Moore's plainspoken language is the product of a life committed to his own values. His imprisonment for refusing to go to Vietnam, his subsequent observations about aging, death, the solitary existence, and the survey of the unnoticed events we call life provide him with far deeper thoughts to convey than his simple words at first suggest. For example in 'Against Empire' he summarizes big thoughts with the lines 'Small olives taste best./ Small stars shine farthest./ Small birds call/ most sweetly. Small lives/ we are small, small lives.' Think about the paucity of words with the universal meaning. And in 'Brief Lives (2): Warning' he writes '6 A.M., the hour of the serious fishermen/ who stand quietly in orange slickers/ as they sway slightly in the small boats/ far out to sea. Those ancient warnings,/ the pelicans, patrol the world closer at hand./ It is the hour when the nurse tries to wake my mother,/ then lets her fall back again/ into the sea. Some fish are not worth/ the keeping. Asleep again, asleep again,/ her heart rejoices. And the great escape continues,/ alone, in darkness, far under the surface.' Moore manages in these lines to speak not only of coma, of loss and death but of the also of the cycle of life as perceived by a son's quiet time with his dying parent. Moore continues his dialogue with the errors of the politics that disturb the world's tenure. 'I remember my mother toward the end,/ folding the tablecloth after dinner/ so carefully,/ as if it were the flag/ of a country that no longer existed,/ but once had ruled the world.' This 'simple' analogical method of conveying his feels through the imagery of small things is what, for this reader, makes him signifcant: perhaps his `regional isolation' indeed makes his words more universally fresh and poignant. These are poems for pause, for thought, and for the sheer beauty of language. Grady Harp, January 06

The sixth poetry collection by Jim Moore, Lighting At Dinner is a thoughtful meditation upon the power of art to express and distill feelings of loss. The topics explored include losing one's mother forever, seeing another country, or the shock of experiencing a war fought against one's own wishes, in one's own name. The poignant free verse perfectly captures the timeless nuance of wistful emotion. Teaching the Dog Not to Nip: Do you think it's easy, / not biting / the one you love? / Try loving someone so much / your mouth is only at home / in the place where your teeth / meet the flesh / of your beloved. Try / not tasting the flesh, not taking in your mouth / the beloved, not / going all the way.