May, 19 2020 | no responses
The strength of these impossible-to-summarize poems and the disorder of any narrative is in the invitation they extend to the reader to step out of the demands of the moment to enjoin in conversation for a while.
Poetry
May, 14 2020 | no responses
The collection is wonderfully complex in its work towards uncovering un-simplified truths within the near-constant framework of landscape and colonialism: “fantasies of Spanish stucco and red tile nod to / European slaughter over transsubstantive mysteries.”
Almonds are Members of the Peach Family
May, 13 2020 | no responses
Leading by example, Sauer shows that not only can our stories can be messy, hard to pin down, transcendent, painful, healing, and provoking—the form in which we tell them can be too.
May, 01 2020 | no responses
Kathleen Graber’s The River Twice troubles the distinction between past and present. Rather than eschew the idea of time altogether, Graber’s collection reimagines time—perhaps as a cyclical rather than linear motion, but more likely as an all-encompassing surrounding material, like air or water.
May, 01 2020 | no responses
In its contradictions and awareness of those contradictions, in its ability to project back a vision of the world in which it occurs while holding it just far enough away that it might be possible to love ourselves in it, Earth astonishes.
Apr, 20 2020 | no responses
Refusing to be confined by the limits of narrative genre and form, she nevertheless exploits the advantages thereby offered to tell her story of how she manages (or at times perhaps fails) to find her way to writing poetry: “above your head that would be great witches would talk to you without anybody pleased all gold explaining it fit so well I had to destroy the double precious eliminate all the space around a poem so it doesn’t seem great but it is.” The result makes for a challenging yet nonetheless quite inviting reading experience. This is writing where anything might happen.