Way of Whiteness

"The world asks, how are you, and I never know/ what to say. A word, a phrase won't do it." These lines begin Wendy Barker's poem "At 50, choosing New Make-Up." In it, she questions the thin concealment made possible by a bottle of beige facial foundation or an obligatory, "I'm fine." It is a vein of questioning that flows throughout the book. Although quiet in tone, this is not a book that hides or smiles sweetly and tiptoes on. Rather, Barker repeatedly insists that both poet and reader stop, look closer, and most importantly ask again and again. What is hiding beneath the surface? What is filling empty space? Why does that flower announce itself in this one moment and not another? There are no tidy answers. Instead, her poems place a reader in the immediacy of discovery as with the,"Miracle of sweet milk in coffee./ Dissolving." There, nestled in graceful silence, details accumulate like whispered hints. With a wide sweeping eye that lingers on the tender, Barker catalogues a generous embrace of the domestic. From Perennial, "I left a winter overcast sky, gray mud./ But now after flying back, and/ driving home, everything here too/as far as I can see has turned green-//lime moth, juniper, cypress, mesquite/ foaming lace over the grasses so soft,/ moist, I want to lie down in the field/ And as we talk of the mail that came//while I've been gone, the native sweet/ acacia, huisachillo, blooms a sudden/ start by the road, gold as the little/Tuscan peppers, sweet, crunch, home." In the hands of a less skilled poet, the delicate ripple upon ripple in the pond effect Barker uses could wobble. Fortunately, her watertight language convinces us that indeed this one word and no other is the one meant to fill this particular white space.

Among other things, WAY OF WHITENESS is an exquisite exploration of a middle-aged woman's vision of romantic love. This book--with its expert imagery, fine-tuned voice, perfect line breaks, and lush cadences--is especially insightful about the myriad shades of feeling and wonder that wave through consciousness, and just beneath. From the slightly comic metaphors of "Generation" to the riotous colloquialisms of "Stylist" to the sexy implications of "Eating San Ginigmano," Barker lifts away the thinnest veil of unnecessary decorum to expose all the runnels of desire. Without being unduly graphic, WAY OF WHITENESS is one of the most erotic books of poems I've read in a long time. Very few poets I know can render both the ethereal longing and the visceral impact of sexual romance like Barker. When I finished this book, I went back to it for a second and third time. I'll surely teach it. I hope she publishes another like it, soon.