Andrew Demcak opens yet more vistas into that seductive world he continues to create in his new book of poems a single hurt color. And even for the polished practiced linguist he has revealed before, this sturdy volume reaches even higher marks on the rising tide of his young career. Demcak is a wizard with words, a sorcerer and lusty sensualist who is able to paint indelible images that may fly past the reader’s eye as in his haiku settings as in the following perfect three line 5/7/5 setting:
I’m wet all over
from the tart smack of your voice
on my new iPhone.
or linger in the musky flavors of physical encounters experienced or imagined. His ability to present the reader with immaculate depictions of sensual encounters is one of his strongest assets as in Obscene Caller,
All that muffled silence,
then the edge of orgasm.
You thought that sex would mean forever.
You never asked who he was.
The problem wired in distance.
Your eardrum didn’t need help;
you laid down with his voice completely.
A creature of hungers,
you wanted to fuck 1,000 middle-class men.
But you were young;
you swam in his need,
(Read more of the review at Gently Read Literature)