Easy

Effortless and stunning in its grace and movement, Ponsot's newest collection follows the prompting of its title, which can be read as personal affirmation or a direction: “simmer down” she imperatively writes, “lay your cards on the linen faceup // causing a music to start.” Many of the poems create connections across distance, whether it's the air in a kitchen evoking “Alhambra years ago,” the cloud barrier separating earth and space, or something even more ephemeral: “Between silence and sound // we are balancing darkness.” Playful humor springs up, as well as departures to childhood or rewritten fables. Yet even at these moments the poems are like “stones, holding each other into a wall.” Old age is an ever-present lens for Ponsot (Springing ), who is in her late 80s. “Walking Home from the Museum,” for instance, recalls “radiant saviors... // at ease in their deathlife.” Ponsot is a master poet, still at the height of her powers: “The place of language is the place between me// and the world of presences I have lost” (Oct.)