Chuck Wanager’s latest collection of poetry Sixteen Windows continues his modernist perspective on the world and on his personal experiences. Working in the tradition of the Beat poets and other non-traditional writers, Wanager uses language and images to capture the reader’s imagination through unconventional forms, as well as through the sounds of words and the images that those words create. The poems’ subject range from the intensely personal to the more expansive material. Wanager writes about his own experiences and about larger social issues. His poem “Snail/e/mail?” presents the modern shifts in human communication, while “Shall I tweet thee, my love?” uses the tradition of love poetry to comment on the contemporary versions of romantic verse. Wanager writes about space travel, modern physics, and the issues of man coping in a modern fast-paced society. His style is creative, and his subject matter is emotionally demanding. Similar to poets such as ee cummings and other experimental writers, Chuck Wanager gives his readers new paths to follow and new visions of their contemporary milieu through his creative and challenging verse.
Robert C. Covel, Ph.D.
author of poetry books STRING THEORY and WIND SONG
What may strike you first about Chuck Wanager’s poetry is his innovative use of words and form. With poems the literary analogy of modern art—as startling as van Gogh or Cezanne, as surrealistic as Dali, as challenging as Picasso or Chagall—he explores subjects ranging from Bumble Bee Honey to the Beatles to the Higgs Boson. Through the windows of his soul, he shares his unique views of life and the universe.
author of poetry books Another Season Spent and Pot Holes in Memory Lane
SIXTEEN WINDOWS is insightful and incisive. It is authentic, articulate, and coherent with enough insolence to keep the reader on her toes. Often the reader in convinced that Chuck is channeling the beat poets. SIXTEEN WINDOWS balances sound and sense in a unique manner.
Eleanor Wolfe Hoomes, Ph.D.
author of poetry book, Bread and Roses, Too