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The Bodies
Tracing the intertidal circuits of story and understory, of body and soul, of land and sea, Christopher Sindt’s sensitive and intelligent poetry offers “a foundation for becoming.” Acutely attentive to the ways ecology and its theology sing in harmony, The Bodies strikes chords—voices and forms laid among and alongside each other. Here, the reader enters into the ways we all “must travel the land of/duplicate forms, hip bone of rabbit chasing after hip bone of fox.” Sindt guides us through this terrain, from false clarity to a truer knowledge full of “seams and breaches.” This is tide, song, transfiguring body: a poetry to be embraced with “both arms please.” —Elizabeth Robinson
Pilgrimly
"Attentive to telling detail. The metallic bloom of bright silences. Hieratic: Instructions for a vigil. Augury: We could ruminate, luxuriate, and divinate in the language of these exquisite poems. They give the light with their own eyes. There is gold on their tongues. Their words marry, or refer. Lure or long. In the alchemical brilliance of Siobhán Scarry’s stunning debut collection, we walk the page as if the earth, feeling each word a footstep, and each footstep marking our PILGRIMLY progress. How surely the poems move us to their spacious pilgrimage. Offer proof of Presence. Fiery. Cerebrally.” —CYNTHIA HOGUE, author of Or Consequence and Flux
No Shape Bends the River So Long
WINNER OF THE NEW MEASURE POETRY PRIZE, Selected by CAROLYN FORCHÉ | Free Verse Editions, edited by Jon Thompson | “What to make of this grand experiment over months and miles of river by two poets, not one—Monica Berlin and Beth Marzoni—plus whatever third spirit they’ve invented together? Like music from the 8th century written by Anonymous, that haunting ubiquitous voice, these poems feel unsettlingly interchangeable, keep coming like the country’s longest river dream-documented here in a rich rush, dense with repetition and sorrow by poets who ‘think like a glacier or a stone, sand . . . years / like consistent rain.’ The Mississippi never had better companions or more devoted ones, save Mark Twain perhaps, or more to the point, his troubled, star-crossed Huck. The sense of human and nonhuman history, even prehistory stuns, keeps bothering this shared-solitary work. ‘Wake to any weather & know that / long ago there also was.’ I’ll take that as rare solace.” —MARIANNE BORUCH
The Forever Notes
Plato wrote in the Timaeus of time as the moving image of eternity. In Ethel Rackin's THE FOREVER NOTES each of these terms finds resonance: the fleeting objects of the world are moving, and persons moved; her lyric syntax builds pictures that dissolve into song and then turn back to image again; the eternal endures in its endless transformations. "Leaves are for changing" she observes-an insight just as true of the leaves of her book. —SUSAN STEWART
Current
Lisa Fishman’s Current follows The Happiness Experiment (Ahsahta, 2007) further into an experience of time as theater, weather, myth, insect body, plantlife, transcription, synchrony, and figment. Her poems are pressed into argument and song by means of attention to the moment and to cross-currents of making, of music, over time. Current enacts a poetics of the uncanny in very close touch with the actual, creating a field of vibrations in which the possibilities and limitations of vision and art collide and change.
Fifteen Seconds without Sorrow
Like many younger Korean poets, SHIM BO-SEON writes in an allusive, indirect style about topics that are in themselves familiar, eating rice, taking off clothes, living in an apartment block, struggling with human relationships. He captures some sparkling moments of joys and sorrows, hopes and frustrations that have been concealed in daily life in rather modest and witty words. The circular movements of concealment and revelation of the mystery that an individual experiences are evoked in turn, always lightly. As a poet-critic, Shim fills his lines with the melodies of plain speech, with subtle thoughts about relationships in the world. Shim made his poetic debut in 1994, but he only published his first collection fourteen years later in 2008. FIFTEEN SECONDS WITHOUT SORROW is a translation of that first volume, containing the poet’s earliest, freshest poems.
The Thinking Eye
Jennifer Atkinson’s The Thinking Eye, her fifth collection, looks at the syntax of our living, evolving world, paying close attention to the actual quartz and gnats, the goats and iced-over, onrushing rivers. The poems also look at the looking itself—how places and lives become “landscapes” and the ways the lenses of language, art, ecology, myth, and memory—enlarge and focus our seeing. If it’s true, as Gaston Bachelard says, that whether a poet looks through a telescope or a microscope, [she] sees the same thing, then what Atkinson sees is an earth filled with violence and beauty, human malice and ten thousand separate moments of joy. Clearly in love with the earth and the (English) language—all those inter-dependent lives and forms—Atkinson pays attention to both with a Bishoppy eye, a Hopkinsy ear, and an ecopoet’s conscience. Behind the book’s sharp images and lush music creaks Chernobyl’s rusty Ferris wheel.
They Who Saw the Deep
At the heart of this collection of poems is the nature of water; water as giver and taker of life, luxuriant and lethal in equal measures. It is set against the backdrop of the shipping forecast and weaves the myths and legends of the ancient Mesopotamians through a litany of migrations down the ages to the present day.
We'll See
We’ll See, originally published in France in 1995 as On Verra Bien by le dé bleu, is Georges L. Godeau’s first book translated into English. This is a collection of ninety brief prose poems, most of which focus on ordinary people and events. Godeau’s prose poems are disarmingly and deceptively simple, yet resonate with each other.
Overyellow, an Installation
This is a book about a color—the vivid, explosive yellow of the English broom that blooms outrageously, uproariously, all over the mountain that dominates the view from Nicolas Pesquès' window. In this loping long poem, Pesquès views this color as installation art—as if the word YELLOW were written in enormous letters covering the hillside. It's an installation that brings issues of language to the fore, offering an occasion for the writer to juggle the immediate presence of color with the more mitigated presence created by language.
