This is a beautiful book–lyrical, subtle, delicate, profound–that there is nothing anywhere the least bit lascivious or salacious or voyeuristic or titillating or scurilous or likely to offend.
There is nothing doubtful, nothing that I even feel I should ask a friend a second opinion on. This book hardly ever enters the territory of dark eros, and that is usually when people start to get edgy.
There are so many outstanding poems, so many gorgeous lines, so much insight and sensitivity, that I can’t even point them out—I’d be going on for pages and pages. This book is a livesong, a praisesong, a celebration of creation, a lamentation of our times, for how far we have fallen from the gracestate in which we began.
It is a finely differentiated hymn to the human body. Poems for the Pornographer’s Daughter is a masterpiece. I don’t say that lightly and in fact I don’t ever say it to anyone. I’m pretty critical of most writing.
— Marilyn Gear Pilling