Bill Mayer is a master of the plain style. His writing moves at the pace of breathing, of walking, of slow, caressive speech to build a poetry richly faithful to our sensate and physical life, as here in one of his many poems of camping in the desert: "Feeling the expected fear rise up in me as the light fades / from the last clouds to the west. Looking east / to the deep purple, and black outlines of mountains. / The wind quieting. Letting the fear...
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Poetry