At the Threshold of Alchemy by John Amen. Rockford, MI: Presa Press, 2009. $13.95.

Amen moves easily from confessional to surrealist and mystical poems in this nicely sized collection. Major themes include religious references ranging from Catholic to Eastern spirituality, and a general exploration of what it is to be alive. Amen is at his best in these moments of confession, which serve to ground the collection in emotional realism, though his surrealist poems shine as well.

“Triptych” is an especially powerful early poem. “In ’96 I used to take Levine to the Mental Health Center/ for his monthly psych appointments” the poem begins. The narrator describes the deterioration of Levine’s mental state, his paranoia; “It’s tragic,/ how someone’s pain can become chronic noise” the narrator states. Finally, he’s had enough and confronts Levine’s delusions; “’Do you really believe that?’ I yelled. I saw it, my/ words slicing through decades of fixation.” But the clarity is short lived, and soon Levine returns to his paranoia. Later, after Levine’s death, the narrator goes to the wake and sees the family, “shaking hands/ and saying over and over, in tones that struck me as oddly/ indistinguishable, thank you thank you thank you thank you.”The juxtaposition of scenes reveals a startling clarity. the family is, of course, thanking friends and guests for visiting, but at the same time, the implication is clear that they must feel some relief from the burden of Levine’s condition.

“Portraits of Mary” is a twenty-poem series chronicling a relationship. “I’m the hero,” the narrator states in section ix; “doing her laundry, four loads and counting.” At times, “Mary” is a lover, at times, Amen draws parallels between her and Mary, the mother of Christ. The poems move between clear scenes to chronicle the touching life of this couple.

Another series are the “Missive” poems which delve further into Amen’s surreal side. “I offer a wide view of a narrow place,” he states in “Missive #6.” He continues, “Stop by/ during vespers for the portrait. We’ll do love songs/ over carbonation. Bring your jaundice. It’s a boon.”

“Enough is Enough” is a poem of healing. “I remember those weeks before my mother passed,” Amen begins. He describes this woman’s life; “On these August evenings/ pulsing with fireflies, I still see mother writhing by the boxwood/ with a corkscrew in her heart.” He concludes, “I’m pausing tonight to say/ I’m sick and weary of red-washing my numbness with their blood.” It’s a powerful declaration and one that clearly took some time coming to.

Amen, at his best, is a poet of process—he is working towards revelation. And he happens to be gracious enough to throw a rope behind so that we, the reader, can follow along.