Mark Doty holds a magnifying glass to his subjects. He uses language as a way to highlight a moment, elevate it, and unearth hidden depth and meaning.
Fire to Fire, his new and selected poems, illustrates how he has done this over the past 20 years.
Striking imagery and a powerful imagination are two of his best tools, as evident in his earliest poems. When Doty writes about an Easter contest in "Ararat," for example (from "Turtle, Swan," 1987), he doesn't recall an egg, but an oval full of glorious possibilities.
What might have coiled inside it?
Crocuses tight on their clock-springs,
a bird who'd sing himself into an angel
in the highest reaches of the garden,
the morning's flaming arrow?
Any small thing can save you.
The descriptions are surprising yet spot-on, and the precise imagery provides the perfect balance for plainer, more conversational phrasing.
Doty seamlessly blends the two, allowing him to pull a reader into the poem, loosen his hold ever so slightly, and then pull him or her in deeper.
As his work matures, Doty becomes adept at balancing sharp, insightful observations with language that ranges from plain to "poetic." He isn't afraid to use words that are multisyllabic or heavy in the mouth.
Nor does he avoid adjectives that might sound precious or inflated in the hands of a less-skilled writer. In "A Display of Mackerel," from "Atlantis," he opens with:
They lie in parallel rows,
on ice, head to tail,
each a foot of luminosity
barred with black bands,
which divide the scales'
like seams of lead
in a Tiffany window.