This by Theodore Eisenberg

“Like Dickinson, Ted Eisenberg dwells in possibility, and his poems, often riddle-like and condensed to their essences, conjure her surprising leaps and good strangeness. As they elegantly shed the excesses of our contemporary discourse, these poems, paradoxically, also luxuriate in the sounds and nuances of the very words they so carefully distill. This is thus poetry of high skill and high stakes.”

–Jeanne Marie Beaumont

Ted Eisenberg’s poems tether vastly different ways of seeing the world — scientific, spiritual, personal, historical – reading often as not as prayer filtered through the lens of dreamscape, in which finitude is the leading man.  This is the work of a fully mature, transformative imagination, attuned to the details and anguish of the physical world, while seeking realms beyond the visible, beyond what can be said but is well worth trying to say, in language attuned to and re-mastering a strange, unutterable music onto the page, where “A shingle of bark stirs, then leaps, this autumn jazz.”

–Jeffrey Levine