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Editors Notes: Carmen M. Pursifull is well known as a poet who has an exceptional grasp of language, image and metaphor. The body of her poetic work has spanned practically all areas of human activity in real space, cyberspace, and in parallel Universes. In this book she explores and illuminates on the most powerful of human emotions: passion. The dictionary tells us that passion is “violent, intense, or overmastering feeling”, or “strong liking for or devotion to some activity, object, or concept”, as well as “sexual desire”. In short, this is an emotional crucible, which is situated in a very, very, hot fire. To some extent we all burn in it. Carmen pushes the limits even further, and offers the reader some truly unforgettable perspectives and images. As I sit here listening to Schubert’s peaceful, exquisite “Trout” Quintet, and look at the material before me, which gives entree to real and (perhaps) imaginary worlds of such an alien nature, my mind boggles. If one has come to this book expecting poetry about the ecstacy of classical love, or heaving, panting, driving sexuality, one will be either surprised or disappointed. Actually, the reader is in for an exciting, sometimes quite rough ride. But the poetry is all of uniformly excellent quality. It cannot fail to widen some eyes, and to expand some horizons.

This collection must rank with, or surpass, Carmen’s previous poetic achievements. It is a complex, diverse, and powerful work. We see here a master at her work. Some readers may, as I do, find some of the poems repelling because of the truly repugnant acts with which they deal. So be it. But they will also have to admit, as I do, the integrity and excellence of the artistry with which Carmen has fashioned them. She is merely recording what is really out there. In the end, she is act- ing as our mirror. If we fear what we are reading it is only because we fear that the face we see in her mirror might be our own.

©1996, Dimitri Mihalas

 

 






Poems from The Many Faces of Passion:
Compulsion
The Victim
The Dark Side of Joe Blow
Sunday Morning in New York City
Desert Song
I Like My Presidents Slick