Nothing but words

The poems in Jean Stevens latest collection revel in words: the joy of them; the work of finding the ones that say exactly what we mean; our use of them to manage the nothingness. The words we choose for nature are vital for living at one with the elements. A relationship can bow under the strain of a lifetimes freight of words said and regretted. Words spoken and heard implant themselves for ever: To hell with men lets devote our lives to words is a fragment of a conversation with Sylvia Plath. Meanwhile words spoken years ago resurface: thats not for the likes of you. These poems are about the lifetime endeavour of trying to learn the impossible language.