[Gregory was a noted American poet and critic. In the following review of The Iron Dish, he praises Riggs's economical use of language and clear imagery in his poetry.]

The surfaces of Lynn Riggs's poetry are clean and cool. One derives casual pleasure from the graceful gestures of his particular lyric gift. He has, however, given us little more than his quick, intelligent grasp of external design. It is not often that we find him committing himself beyond the expression of purely decorative effects. On occasions when he does cross the lines of his self-imposed limitations he is clear and vivid. Note this brief commentary:

We will need even these stumps of cedar,
The harsh fruit of the land.
Our thirst will have to be slaked, if at all, by this thin
Water on the sand.
If we have demanded this corrosive season
Of drought, if we have bent

Backward from the plow, asking
Even less than is sent,
Surely we may be no bitterer
Than the shrunk grape
Clinging to the wasted stem
It cannot escape.

The mood of resignation indicated throughout the volume is shown here in its last analysis and with quiet distinction. The counterpoint to this mood is a delight in sharp, hard sunlight such as may be found upon "a pink dress, a blue wagon … in the road …" all expressed in the simplest of terms and with potentialities for precision. Perhaps it is irrelevant to wish that Mr. Riggs had combined his knowledge of American Southwestern speech displayed in Roadside with the formal economy that distinguishes the poems in The Iron Dish. He has made the poet and the dramatist two distinct and separate personalities. An indication of what may be accomplished in the fusion of the two is shown in a poem called "Santo Domingo Corn Dance." The poem is a neat and highly original interpretation of an Indian motif. Here is a selection that illustrates Mr. Riggs's ability in handling the theme:

The Song of the Bodies

I am
Naked before
You, High One—look! Hear me!
As I stamp this ground worn smooth
By feet.
Not as
A supplicant
I shake the doors of earth—
Let the green corn spring to meet
My tread!

Mr. Riggs's promise seems to lie in a direction away from the florid and strikingly poetic phrase; it finds its best expression in the clean-cut image and in an austere economy of words.