Author: Alexey Godin
Tanya Verver’s poetry verges on deep personal drama, where real pain stems from imagined feelings to a longed unattainable object, who is both her personal guardian angel and destructive demon, all set on the remnants of the world slowly falling to pieces. Both tragedies, personal and global seem to be intermingled, the latter abolishing the former, leading to the self destruction of the lyrical heroine who manages to survive through art which as per Louise Bourgeois guarantees her sanity. The poetry borders on power and humiliation, pain and lost ambitions, concentration and ambiguity, freedom and constraints, self-inflicted violence, self-deceit, disillusionment, annoyance, anger and hope, deep tenderness and harshness. She evolves through chaos and crucifies it in the dance of her verse. Her stanzas cut deeply into the flesh of the heart, but the waterfalls of love «bursting out of veins» overflow the pain and spread ecstasy and entrance the reader, who is himself transformed through the verse. The lyrical heroine may drown in love which is similar to the heroin overdose and she may choose to do so, consciously getting into the trap. The powerful lines stem from the global and personal catastrophes, as per Anna Akhmatova verse from «garbage » and more literally as per Kseniya Polteva interview from « radioactive garbage» of these days. Tanya Verver survives and lets others live by giving them hope of transformation and the idea of inner and outer freedom, even in an authoritarian state, and amid the global crisis, both stemming from existentialist philosophy. She is indeed afraid not of falling into the abyss, but of jumping in the abyss herself, she still overcomes the fear and starts flying. Albeit we do not know if it’s only for a short time. Her poetry has varying references to the author’s multicultural background, from Hollywood and indie cinematographer to the Chinese book of changes, but surely has the greatest impact of the English language poetry and prose, by means of which she controls her deep truly slavic passion by putting it into the words. Her poems are passionate akin to Byron’s, tender akin to Keats’ and pensive akin to Auden’s. Almost everything seems to be allowed in literature, which may not be allowed in the real world, but it still has its own constraints of style, rhyme and rhythm which the author masterfully manages. The contents of her poems may not be classical, the author’s passion changing to meditation both leading to transformation are luring, but the form remains perfectly crafted. The reader finds himself in the placer of pieces of broken glasses and gem stones, which form the bizzare symphony of light when shining together. The reader may cut his fingers by the debris when searching for the true diamonds in the placer, but such cut does relieve him from pain.