Everything
Andrea Cohen
Reviewed in Publishers Weekly
The poems in Everything, Andrea Cohen’s seventh collection, traffic in wonder and woe, in dialogue and interior speculation. Humor and gravity go hand in hand here. Cohen’s poems have the rueful irony of a stand-up comic playing to an empty room. But look around: there are wrecking balls, zebras, lovers, milk money. It’s a room to hang around in.
“Wrecking Ball”
Its offices are thin
air. On days off
it still goes in—
wrecking balls are
workaholics. They
hang around up
there, and even
the idea of big
sky crumbles.
