Author: Elizabeth Zetlin
Elizabeth Zetlin is a nature poet with a twist. Sure, she’s earthy enough that you can smell the cedar on your fingertips as you flip through the pages, but her real aim is to take root in the sub-conscious, a place where the ground aches as the vegetables and flowers bust their brains to grow, where the poets drop their spades and shiver with blossoming awe. Hers is the kind of garden Adam and Eve would have planted if both God and the serpent had left them alone.
~ Barry Dempster, Author of The Salvation of Desire
As tender and strong as the tendrils that reach out to embrace children, lovers, friends, ultimately these are poems celebrating the human community, at once passionate and compassionate, a delight for eyes, ears and sensory appetite.
~ Olive Senior, Author of Gardening in the Tropics
Liz Zetlin’s poetry moves towards meaning through a lost cultural language in which the real and the surreal lie in close proximity. Intensely erotic, it has the ability both to play with death and to inhabit the ordinary. Out of the garden’s intimacies comes an unexpected magic. It is a rare genius, finely sung.
~ Douglas Chambers, Author of Stony Ground: The Making of a Canadian Garden
Liz Zetlin’s poems are fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, every one evidence of redemption. Like the Voodoo Queens of the Caribbean, she distracts us from grief with “plaisirs” in the Garden of Good and Evil. These accessible, well crafted poems by a mature and compassionate poet make a garden of affirmation.
~ Linda Rogers, Author of The Saning