The small details combine with the large in Hull's work. It's not just the surprise of the invented onomatopoeia, but the internal rhyme which shows Hull's class. Camp Dog' is another poem which I found impossible to forget. Dogs are everywhere in Hull's poems. Occasionally, but not often, her anger turns to lecture, and she writes the kind of poems that might be better sprayed on a brick wall than printed on a page.
Nothing Is Sacred' is another, alternatively tough-minded, hopeful, despairing.
There is nostalgia in her memories of bush and childhood, but it is always a frustrated, thwarted nostalgia. Morning Visitor' is a brilliant evocation of babyhood, followed by a clear-eyed view of the impossibility of regaining innocence. Its style and understated emotional power reminded me of Ginsberg's elegy for Vachel Lindsay. Read 'Morning Visitor,' 'Bottles', and 'Camp Dog' if you read nothing else this year, for that matter. Hull is special.