This is a new-century work, a voicing of Barbara Cully's tidal sense of the temporal, her premonitory stillness, written by desert and sea-light, inscribing the endurance of loss, the necessity of vigilance. Her images are beautiful and precise, her sensibility profound.
Maureen Seaton's subject is womanhood-an experience she presents as, by turns, a liturgically voluptuous sacrament and the kind of party that prompts the neighbors to call the cops. Her poems always make me feel lucky in my gender, doubly lucky in loving women.
…a heady meld of light and lyric. cin salach illustrates the mastery that long ago established her as one of Chicago's most iconic literary and performance voices. These unflinching stanzas fling open doors to the restless landscape where the heart does its astounding work. We've waited much too long for this. But it's everything we've waited for.
From the author of the celebrated novel Pink, which was included in Curve magazine’s top 150 lesbian-written novels, Jennifer Harris’s new book [This is How I Dream It] is a lyrical compilation of stories, poems and anecdotes that explore and meditate on themes such as love and longing—you know, the easy stuff of life. A very powerful collection." Heather Aimee O'Neil, contributor
Alaska native Caroline Goodwin’s first poetry book, Trapline (Jackleg Press), is set at the edge–of the sea, the swamp, the wilderness. To get a feel for her poetry, imagine yourself walking along the shore, encountering “rot and salt,” dragonflies, gnats, the quahog and cockle. Then imagine focusing in on each treasure, closer and closer until you see a wing or an eye and then inside the organism. Once you’re amongst the blood vessels with your magical microscope, Goodwin will connect what you see to the human you through a hand, a thigh, a boot. What you discover will be big and beautiful and brutal. I didn’t get a free book for recommending Goodwin’s poetry; I simply bought her book and fell in love with the poems.
Identities and realities sweep over us in Meagan Lehr’s exciting debut collection of poetry, reminding me of Virginia Woolf’s waves of language, except that Lehr’s monologues are sparer, more enigmatic. Patches of conversation, reminiscence, and conjecture hang in the air tantalizingly, as time itself does in these sea-crossings. Her references to ships and telegrams might seem from another era, but they’re made current by an original, staccato rhythm. A tale of unrequited love on the high seas? A mystery tucked into a postmodern poem? A linguistic tour de force? Letters whose correspondents must be teased out by the reader? One thing’s for certain: this is exciting poetry.