From a poet and essayist whose writing about nature has won her comparisons with Gary Snyder and Terry Tempest Williams comes a new collection that offers further evidence of her ability to trace the intersections of the human and nonhuman worlds. The title poem is a lyrical excavation of the city of Prague, where layers of history, culture and nature have accumulated to form “a genius loci”—a guardian spirit.
Return to a place where nothing in particular can be seen to explain why you return, nothing you can name, though you can touch the memory of the landscape—
linden trees in a hedgerow, cut wheatfield, ruins of the longhouse, rolling meadow of sunflowers blooming, the musk of their oil, contained heat.
From a poet and essayist whose writing about nature has won her comparisons with Gary Snyder and Terry Tempest Williams comes a new collection that offers further evidence of her ability to trace the intersections of the human and nonhuman worlds. The title poem is a lyrical excavation of the city of Prague, where layers of history, culture and nature have accumulated to form “a genius loci”—a guardian spirit.
Excerpt
Return to a place where nothing in particular can be seen to explain why you return, nothing you can name, though you can touch the memory of the landscape—
linden trees in a hedgerow, cut wheatfield, ruins of the longhouse, rolling meadow of sunflowers blooming, the musk of their oil, contained heat.
