“Betty Adcock writes with a gift that links the visual acuity of Bishop with the verbal muscle of Dickey. In an age of blurred authorial voices, Adcock remains singular, the reader’s best ally, the steward of a supreme innocence. There are only a handful of American poets in her class.”

Rodney Jones

From “Barrier Islands”

Skirts of the continent, ruffled in heavy pavane
of sand and tide or frenzied in capriccios
of gales, can sometimes tear like lace in the turns
as of dancers wearing the wind, wearing the moon.

Photo by Nicholas Graetz