About a previous book, poet Martha Collins describes Kevin Clark's ability to move "seamlessly" between subjects and timeframes; she notes, "Kevin Clark's poems perform the magic his passion dictates and his intelligence won't quite allow." Indeed, the reader finds such magic, the seamless juxtaposition of incongruities in his latest book. Take, as an example, "In Between" from The Consecrations, where he rocks between the "pure matter" of "simple science" while watching the "late moonlight / glow riding" his wife's skin "as she slept," to the haunting call of midnight, moon, and wind that dare the poet into the dark. What he finds in that "in between," the seamless place where incongruities make sense of our existences, is sound that betrays "belief / in only the tactile." He finds, consequently, an energy or power that, "untouchable," emanates from her as she sleeps. The ability to see from contrary vantage points poises Kevin Clark in a place where he can lead us to the simplest blessings.
This is no forgetting, and, in Kevin Clark's world, all things are consecrated and holy.