Through musical phrasing, and surprising images, Sigo creates a landscape in which the poet is thinking and feeling through modes of creation. The person IS the poem. And a quiet beauty pervades the language.
So many lines echoed for me ("I love strangers in an ailing mansion", from the poem "Language Arts"). A favorite of mine is "Sea Breeze" ("The flesh is bruised it hurts and I've burned through all my books").
Another favorite, which I'll quote in full, is "Dream":
A curtain dragging gold rises on The Big Heat
Two words are fused to a bloodletting chain
How beautifully the brakemen allow the blood through
I rest on the slip of the black coral sea
Steel quilted in lines wider than the streets
Pinned as a wing or thin cord, that he summons
In order to drive us away, that glamour is an investment
Involving desire and unreality. The poem are perfect
Laid back time machines, ground-blooming flowers
Their endless pastel grime in streaks
A blocking of my own in-expertise, a tunnel
Blown down past the marble to brass
And first to charge the shore, waving our shields
A castle left cooling to ruin
And the islands will flower in and out
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