There is a quality of the wild in Alima Sherman's poems, often experienced as a felt thing that rises from far beneath the surface of things; the place where the words are born. Sometimes it is the wildness of a heart gone mad with longing, grief or love; at other times it is the wildness of an imagination that knows how to set itself free because, after all, that is the calling that moves in the depths of what we are. In both cases, and more, the poetry that moves through this poet carries an edge, a restless desire, that cuts its way forward with a passion to know and face life exactly as it is, while maintaining the clarity of mind to satisfy poetry's demand that what's been discovered in the terrible miracle of living be given a voice with the authenticity and rigor that can only be called 'the real.' Read her and see.
--Peter Levitt, One Hundred Butterflies
Some poems are so exquisite they vanish like dandelions. Alima Sherman's poems - exquisite as dandelions - remain rooted to the earth: so touching they break your heart; so transcendant, they make you burst into flame; so true, they make you vanish into thin air, like dandelions.
-Jack Grapes, The Naked Eye & Poems So Far
