Dave Davidson : Scoopings - Poetry Journal 2003

Scoopings - Poetry Journal 2003

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Reflective self-analysis digging and dipping

excavation exercise, using poetry and other

art forms as a deep curved, spoon-shaped,

psychological shovel, surgically extracting

barren emotional cavities by hollowing out,

burrowing and discovering exclusive news

items unbeknownst to the person or public.

Dave Davidson

Editorial Reviews

In writing poetry, a poet seeks to create something, something, a thing. In reading a poem, we
want to find ourselves walking in a world of the senses. We want both the familiar and the new. In Dave Davidson’s poetry we find all of
this, from the common thrill of nude swimming in “Dip Skinny,” to the somber
suggestions of “Fitting,” to the surrealistic, suburban vision in “The Stolen
Lines.” Davidson begins his collection
with “So Much,” a twist on William Carlos Williams’ “The Red Wheelbarrow.” Both poems begin with the same four words:
“So much depends upon.” Important words,
and it is possible to see in them a central aspect of both poems. Dependence.
Not a word, now days, possessing a positive connotation. Yet, so much does depend upon, so much
depends on other things, things outside the thing itself, things outside the
self. Poems depend on poets to pen them
into being; poems depend on images to carry meaning; meaning depends on—among
other things—shared experiences; shared experiences depend on humanity. Humanity—in one aspect—is dependent on
humanity: neither completely independent nor dependent, but inter-dependent on
one another. These seem to be prudent words
for the times in which this book of poems grows into being. Today, and in recent years, spending time
with words at all seems in itself an act of protest: against laziness, against
popular culture, against the image.
Perhaps words have always been that way; perhaps words are the true earth
from which we all grow; perhaps words, like nothing else, give us that blessed
shade under which to contemplate—no matter in what context we find
ourselves—those things that truly matter.
And this growing towards shade, in this collection, finds each poem a
seed in a larger context, each dependent upon one another. Davidson plants them close together—seed upon
seed density—and watches each one grow on the page, each poem a possibility,
all of them, as he says, “seeds to become those big trees that provide shade.”

M.M. McLaughlin,
April 2003

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