freedom’ that fills the discourse of ourn’founders’ [the philosophers representednin part one of this book] must, nondoubt, be replaced by the ‘theory ofnliberation’ that should have as its fundamentalntask the elaboration of newnintegrating categories beginning with anredemption of the historical sense ofnman.”nThe anthology thus moves in itsnconsiderations from the inner life ofnthe person to the external concerns ofncollectivism, from universal concernsnwith human freedom to political liberationnin the particular context of LatinnAmerica, from philosophy as metaphysicalnquestioning to philosophy asnpolitical ideology. It is a pattern characteristicnof contemporary LatinnAmerican experience in general andnone that the United States must soberlynreflect upon.nStephen L. Tanner is professor of Englishnat Brigham Young University.nSense andnSensibilitynby John SkonnoidnBathsheba on the Third Day by JanenGreer, Omaha, NE: The CummingtonnPress.nIt is a rare American poem, this late innthe 20th century, that dares to benunderstood. Jane Greer’s slim volume,nBathsheba on the Third Day, is full ofnsuch poems, which give this first bookna mature heft and solidity.nThe maturity should not be surprising.nJane Greer is the founding editornof Plains Poetry Journal, and her ownnpoetry reflects the high standards shenhas set for her nationally recognizednjournal. What marks Jane Greer’snwriting is its sureness in handling poeticntraditions for her own purposes andneffects—themselves highly personalnand original.nThe strength of individual poems innthis collection is matched by theirnorganization into a book with the oldnvirtues of a beginning, middle, andnend. The unifying topic is love, as thenallusion in the title poem suggests. Butnthis most traditional of subjectsn—Robert Graves called it the onlynsubject of true poetry—is also thenmost diflScult to handle successfully,nthat is to say, with economy and effect.nThe title poem is a good example ofnthe novelty of approaches Greer usesnto handle the oldest of themes:nHot, hot, hotnis all those spooky crowsncan think to say. We oughtnto have some people over,ntake in a funny show,nredecorate this tent.nAren’t you listening, lover?nWe’ll just have to inventnour own fun, take a coursenmaybe, in the fall, andnthen . . .nOh, please, babe, not again]nWe never talk any more.nThe contemporary and satiric tone isnone of the many registers found in thenbook. Here the banality of desire andnmodern “concerns” undercut one ofnthe oldest and most powerful stories ofnsexual temptation, sin, and death residentnin Western culture. The poemnachieves its effect by ignoring thenmoral burden of the biblical locus, andndares the reader to ignore it, by givingna voice to the naked body seen thatnPoemnby P. J. Kavanaghn’And must I sing? What subject shall I choose?’n—Ben JonsonnPerhaps as easy to try a poemnAs to do nothing, in a morningnAlready dispersed by radio ‘News at One’n(An attempt to keep in touch—with something.)nPessoa discovered another self, Caeiro,nWho didn’t bother with rhyming: ‘SeldomnAre two trees equal, side by side.’nTo write a poem . . . what for? For fame?nA laugh! A granny with a baby on her armn(One old photograph, lying about at random).nIn another, your girlhood’s pensive chin,nAngled nostril, clay-stuffed now. A landslide!nFor shcking up a muddied head through time.nNever, dear God, from boredom!nnnspring afternoon by King David.nAllusion is one of the most traditionalnof poetic tools, to be used lightly;nand, consequently, a very differentnkind of allusion is present in “Pastoral”:nThere is a primly tended parknwhere, in the noon sun,nshadows quiver;nthere is a muddy blood-warmnrivernmurmuring lies from dark tondark;nand, in between, a snarl ofngrassnthe mowing man, in the heat,nforgot.nKnee-deep, waist-deep,nsteaming in hotnsun, it lets no lovers pass.nYoung men and women shedntheir clothesnwithout relief among the trees;nArdor is dampened by degrees.nBut in the long grassnsom.ething growsnimportunate of appetitenand roots its deepest self innmire.nAUGUST 1987 / 27n