who survived the bucket home,
darting, one night older. Miraculous,
alive, their delicate green lines
betray miniature fillets–too small
for pinenuts and wine, tougher
than tapwater, this brilliant
captivity. Isn’t it what
I’ve wanted, my whole life?
When you think you’ve got this living figured and you know how to wear these mortal coils, sit down with these poems. They lyrically disagree. They offer a scrutiny as intense and intelligent as that found in the prince of Denmark. Like his soliloquies, these poems explore an individual life so minutely–those little minnows in their brilliant bowl–that they touch upon the deepest, grandest, most troubling parts of their readers. There is a compelling searching which moves through the Montana landscape and the rainscape of the Puget Sound and sometimes, even, through Kafka land as in Persephone Goes Bad, The Idiot, and Self-Portrait: Boy with Four Pupils. The book ends “trusting one door to look like home.” That door is the one we see in the mirror. Among the fans of these poems are Mary Oliver, the editors of Poetry, and the guy writing this brief review. –Derek Sheffield
A Montana native, Catherine Coan teaches creative writing, literature and writing in Los Angeles. She holds an M.F.A. from the University of Washington and is the recipient of a National Endowment for the Humanities grant, She is the author of several screenplays, most recently Ophelia.
300 copies. Handsewn $15.00