Losing
Being a blackbird, being endlessly sucked intoblack night, being lightless, heatless, ridingthe wind. Darkness asked:why did you come to our home? These palms and paws can’t touch darkness, whichis a …
Being a blackbird, being endlessly sucked intoblack night, being lightless, heatless, ridingthe wind. Darkness asked:why did you come to our home? These palms and paws can’t touch darkness, whichis a …
Demarcations of the day in lines laid down and the trains that dance along them
I’m resting on a tide-bleached tree, and you
are looking for stones.
The opus is present. In the shadowed drapes. The blushing, buttressing. The pouring.
“The speaker of these poems is not only a subject of surveillance but also an agent of it, and I felt like the verb surveille had its finger on that relation of control that’s under tension in the poems, and on the relationship between a text and its reader that is always under some kind of tension.”—Caitlin Roach
“This collection doesn’t boast of excavating the truth, it only places its desires and secrets in the reader’s hands.”
“Poets often take familiar words or phrases and make them strange, unfamiliar again. Reading a poem should give you a bit of an uncanny feeling, like you’re learning your language for the first time. You could say that poetry is how language renews itself.”—Oksana Maksymchuk
We are delighted to feature our 2024 James Welch Prize winners and finalists in our online folio.
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