Noel’s unwavering awareness is so keen and rapt that as it perceives it also exerts pressure on its object, and the image that returns to the gazer arrives metamorphosed. Just as metamorphic rock presents a record of its own creation, existence, and reinvention, Noel’s images and phrases come to us intensely acted upon, but elementally unharmed…
Loving engenders intimacy. The resulting proximity creates space for further loving. Lynn Xu’s song is born out of this space of intimacy.
Driven more by a simmering undercurrent of topic than form or principle of organization, these poems are frankly endearing in their fidelity to the lyric as an able expression of complex truths.
Flower-bordered river where I fillet the hyacinths, a russian doll of places posing as one place. Halogen me at a horse show in Florida while another juliennes olives for appetizers. A doll slipped in another till all dolls are dull: versions of me with whistles for lips reciting asterisks in the periodic table. Collage of […]
The Ecopoetry Anthology is a beautifully constructed, carefully planned, and intelligently framed volume. Readers looking for a concise introduction to the field of ecopoetry, or a thought-provoking intervention into contemporary scholarly approaches to ecopoetics, will find this book a worthy addition to their library.
Like all good poetry, Lost And keeps us somewhat lost, and therefore looking.
How the blade was not sharp enough.
How a duck’s neck is supple as a thick piece of rope.
Bees crowd the statuary, topiary.
White trees where the orchard used to be.
Low hills spotted with honey, the barn
The invention of consciousness
was as brutal as it was the birth of the past
tense. The past itself not a place, but the echo
It occurred to me that I had swallowed
some shards of mirror without realizing it.
There was an ice fog that descended
and left me shaking. I began to realize that
I’d never actually held an entire conversation.