Heavy Grace

the long version

“Robert Cording’s <em>Heavy Grace</em> tolls the bells. These are highly likable poems in which the pain of loved ones’ demises is wrestled into free-verse stanzas. Buttressing the elegies that form the heart of the collection are psalms of joy rooted in nature and fatherhood. . . . Heavy Grace is an unflinching and affecting treatment of painful subjects and ultimate themes. —Poetry “Robert Cording’s third collection of poems, <em>Heavy Grace</em>, is a luminous addition to the literature of last things, which is always rooted in the here and now. The quotidian is the subject of these quiet lyrics, and what they reveal is the steady gaze of a man determined to confront his mortal fears. This is a poet as familiar with the ways of birds as with what he calls the ‘deep syntax of grief’. Like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of the brave spirits hovering behind this book, Cording recognized that the ‘heart cannot be comforted,’ yet his stern poems offer a measure of solace, a kind of grace—a way to live in the here, the now.” —Christopher Merrill “Robert Cording’s work offers a subtle but unmistakable critique of Romanticism—or at least of the attenuated romanticism we’ve known in American poetry for 30 plus years. To that extent, it may be part of a broad contemporary reaction, in which unlikely factions (‘new narrative’ poets, postmodern poets, even language poets) vaguely collaborate. Yet Cording’s part in this general trend, supposing there to be one, involves religious vision. In an epoch whose authors are sentimental about their unbelief and about the primacy of their ungoverned selves, Cording demands a setting aside of the self, an emptying of the egoist vessel. Such an essentially humble pursuit of spiritual ends has not yet won Cording the reputation he merits. But for all that his poetry is perhaps as prophetic. We may hope so, for what could we need more than a canny guide to being in the ‘heavy’ world—with its beasts and work and birds and spouses and pain and children and joy—while remaining open to all that is graceful within its quotidian bounds. . .and elsewhere?” —Sydney Lea