Edge Effects

The final lines of "Spring Pruning," the penultimate poem in Edge Effects, a remarkable new book from Jean Biegun, aptly describe the entire collection: "rich, beautiful, sweet and open, tenderly open, / the ageless fruit seedful within." Indeed, each poem resonates with tenderness and aptly worded observations like "utterings [that] congregated on the tops of cabinets around the room like pigeons bowing and cooing" or "gnarled farm accents that braided the wind / like tree roots anchoring soil." Repeatedly, the language is delicious, surprising, and fruitfully meditative. Some poems are informed by rueful regret, such as over an observed spouse's finding new love or a "Second Shift" in the memory care ward, or over the unthinking many who "stride across engineered turf / Talking through our glowing devices." While this lovely book keenly observes surface wonders that delight a poet's eye, the collection overall will edify the heart and awaken a sense of wonder by earning many rereadings.

-Dr. Andy Jones, Poet Laureate Emeritus, Davis, California

Jean Biegun's poems lead us gently but firmly through the everyday and the ethereal. Probing the spectrum of existence from discovery to death and the afterlife, she does not look away from what discourages but allows bravery and hope to outweigh despair. In undercurrents of environmental concern, she weaves together what we find and what we store for unknown tomorrows.

-JoAnn Anglin, author of Heat and Words Like Knives, Like Feathers

Jean Biegun's second book of poetry, Edge Effects, is a treasure to read. She is not afraid to tell us what she doesn't know but her words bring one to edges, to a feeling of something akin to holy. Aware of pain both phantom and real, she tells us of ordinary people like the old man folded into his years or the boy on the corner begging for coins. Jean is one with nature, even a small spider noticing her as she watches it crawl on her table. A deep understanding of people also makes her one with the human heart that needs sanctuary in an innocent room.

-Allegra Silberstein, Poet Laureate Emerita Davis CA