With reverence and exaspersation and good humor, the poems in William
Greenway's new book, How the Dead Bury the Dead, evoke the pain of loss
and celebrate the ways we transform our losses into strength. Dislocated
from his native Georgia to the rust belt of the Midwest, haunted by the
ghost of his father, by memories of his mother, and by dreams of his own
mortality, Greenway turns his warm wit on every problem that life has
set for him, a stand-up Hamlet with a soft Southern accent and a feel
for the power and pathos in Richard Wilbur's line, I dreamt the past was
never past redeeming. In poems that bring back, without nostalgia, the
people and places of his early years, he reconciles the ache of absence
with the deep, persistent richness of this world, finding in the
practices of the Shona, and African tribe, an artistic and philosophical
model for his own approach to life.