Pink

A sharp visceral new collection of poetry that touches on art history sex bodies language and the color pink. The sack of RomeThe siege of Florence.The lights twinkle pink in Fiesole.Pink furls pink buds.Wet pink veiny hearts in spring.Pink can mean so many things.. Sylvie Baumgartel’s Pink moves from the shadow of the Ponte Vecchio to a mission church in Santa Fe from Daily Mail reports to a photograph of a girl from Tierra del Fuego from a grandmother’s advice (“Don’t go to Smith and don’t get fat”) to legs wrapped around “a man who calls me cake.”. Baumgartel a poet of fierce intimate wry language delivers a second collection about art history violence bodies fear pain reckoning and transcendence. The poems travel back to the historical linguistic and emotional sources of things while surging forward with a stirring momentum creating a whirlwind of birth and destruction.