Grief is insatiable. One recent winter, ravenous, it demanded three pots of soup. The chopping, the stirring, the names incanted into the fragrant steam gave mourning a bearable shape. And my recently departed ate and ate. I felt lighter. The vulning pelican shed its mythology of self-wounding and lowered beak to chest not to peck but to caress herself and make feeding others possible. Mihaela Moscaliuc on "Vulning Pelican: Triple Elegy" |
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"Adam O. Davis’s Index of Haunted Houses" "When considered altogether, the collection’s narrative portrays humanity as having failed itself, damaging the world it inhabits beyond repair and leaving this litany of haunted houses behind like a series of alien structures. More often than not, the poems offer space for uncanny but meditative reflection, ending on a puzzling image that invites the reader to explore the haunted spaces the poems create." via NEW OHIO REVIEW |
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What Sparks Poetry: Devon Walker-Figueroa on Jorie Graham's "Salmon" "This was a language not so much spoken as felt from deep within … and it made me, all at once, begin to ask myself new questions: what are the choreographies by which our consciousness might move—the patterns in which astonishments congregate? Can the poet witness her own inception? What tempos might our impressions take up—only to shed them later on?" |
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