S. Thomas Summers

New Jersey native S. Thomas Summers, by profession a high school English teacher, never fails to bring a fresh eye to the scenes about him, whether it be in his kitchen with his wife and child or in the woods or out on the highway. The scenarios in this, his second chapbook, are simple and straightforward, but the poet always manages to extract drama and meaning. An example is the following poem:

This next poem ostensibly features the writer, in his mind, addressing poet W. S. Merwin and regretting that he was unable to read some of Mr. Merwin’s poetry, although cleverly he contrives to construct his own fine poem out of that seemingly regrettable situation!

Profundity is found by Scott Summers in simple almost primeval situations. He is not afraid to mix in Death as a real-life characer with domestic things such as porch swings or coffee mugs:

Quiet and unassuming in much of his verse, S. Thomas Summers nonetheless takes us along as if he is taking us for a drive in a rusty old pickup truck. We cannot but be charmed by the ride.

reviewed by Chis George - editor, Loch Raven Review

Shadows Ink consistently publishes high quality chapbooks with visually stunning full color covers. Both cover and content of Death Settled Well are exquisite. Summers' use of language is imaginative and his metaphors often powerful. Critics have called him a poet with range, focus, and brutal honesty. Poetry editors must agree with that assessment because his work has appeared in many journals.

"Poets" introduces readers to Summers' poetry and serves as fitting harbinger for what will follow. I quote an excerpt here:

        These are the gods
        who prick their fingers
        on rusty nails and show

        me how to bleed, who
        dance with the ghosts
        of dead fathers as grief

        falls from the rafters,
        dusts the air….

This excerpt from "Scavenger Lost" paints an unusual picture for readers through metaphor:

        How strange to see this buzzard
        scratching its talons across
        the green-shingled roof that overlooks

        the pond, wings hunched like arthritic
        shoulders, hands buried deep
        in dark pockets. His face, a twisted

        radish, gazes up through the blue….

"Methuselah Knew" brings that Old Testament patriarch to life. This excerpt shows him to be a man at ease with himself and the ghosts of a long life:

        Methuselah avoided stepping on ants,
        understood the worth of a thick beard.
        His memory pocketed friends
        like specks of jasper and gypsum.
        He polished them at twilight
        recalling the strength of their handshakes,
        the slant of their smiles.

"Intimations on Mortality by Linus Van Pelt" is an imaginative memorial to an aging Snoopy. What if our intrepid canine hero should die? Will we remember his playful past, the pretend wars he fought?

        His war will end soon.
        We'll bury him at dusk
        besides his splintered red
        house. Schroeder will bring
        his piano, play Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.
        Charlie, Lucy, and Sally will wait
        for me to say something comforting and wise.

From the unanticipated death of a frog and the loss of a comic strip dog, to the dying leaves of fall and Methuselah contemplating the ghosts of dead sons and friends, Summers writes of death and loss. That he does it with humor and clear-eyed compassion is a tribute to his skill as poet. This chapbook is exceptional and highly recommended."

reviewed by Laurel Johnson, Midwest Book Review

______________________________________________________

In his first chapbook, Death settled well, S. Thomas Summers demonstrates his belief in tight, concise writing, the clear image, and ample use of metaphor.  Hardly a word in the volume seems superfluous or out of place.  This is not poetry based, as Rimbaud puts it, on a "systematic derangement of the senses,"  or even the "disordered and chaotic confusion of the Bible" of Miguel Hernandez.  It is poetry that is humble and unassuming, yet accomplished, as if it were written in secret by the next door neighbor out of a quiet, well-ordered life. 

The subject matter of these poems ranges from naps to misplaced buzzards, baseball games to frogs caught by the lawnmower blades, pastoral scenes to deli dumpsters, fishing to searching for a lost dog, eating pears to drinking wine.  Scenes abound that the typical literate suburbanite can relate to, and as the title and cover picture indicate death and ghosts appear as an undercurrent:

...A volume

of Poe lies open
on my desk near a portly
candle excavated
by the flame that last

night led me through
Montresor's catacomb's --
so musty and cold. Even
the bacon sizzling

in the kitchen
can't silence the ghosts
knocking on the pipes as you
draw your bath.

And in the title poem, which I quote in its entirety:

Death settled well

on the possum sprawled
near the road's edge.

Its mouth -- gaped. Lips
smeared red -- clown
lips. The heft of death

bloats its belly -- fat
clown. I prop it against
a tree like a teddy

bear against a bed
pillow. Lungs hiss,
empty of air. Eyes

coddle sights only
the dead can see: night
tainting day -- ink

in a pool of clear
water -- my own
ghost leaning

against a stop sign,
patiently waiting for
breath to expire.

The poems that are most effective work on multiple levels, like the passages quoted above: past and future commingle, memory and the present, life and death.  They transcend mere description, and the preciseness of Summers' language distills the poetic effect to the point every word has a purpose, enhances the overall impact. 

When Summers  takes risks, lets his imagination run, while maintaining control over the language, he can produce some striking images such as in the poem Eight-Years-Old, which recounts a memorable visit to Yankee stadium with his father, and ends with the lines:

I want to crawl into daddy's
lap, taste the pretzel soaking
in his beer, close the wrinkles
growing dark under his eyes.

Or when writing of pears:

... I'll bite
one, leave it on the counter,
a dented bell, so you'll think of me.

Or in the longest poem in the book, Intimations on Mortality by Linus van Pelt:

I'll take Snoopy's body,
wrap it in my blanket, lay
the still bundle in the earth.
Thumb sucking will never soothe that ache.

The few weak poems in the book fail to rise beyond mere description, and are fenced in by the strict discipline of language.   The future challenge in Summers' writing is to consistently transcend such limitations, take risks, and like in his best poems offer his readers insight, wisdom, and mystery.

Overall, Death settled well is a book worth reading, and Summers is a serious, sincere, and talented artist who is able to turn the events of his day-to-day life into poetry.

reviewd by Jim Doss, editor Loch Raven Review